


Tender

by ej_in_blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Criminal Investigation, Dean is really into enthusiastic consent, Detective Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Misogyny, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel, Oral Sex, Protective Dean, Slow Burn, Stubborn Castiel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16102178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ej_in_blue/pseuds/ej_in_blue
Summary: Castiel is not entirely sure how he got himself into this situation, but Dean is determined to get him out of it.Detective Dean Winchester agrees to assume responsibility for Castiel, a deeply damaged man who also happens to be the key witness in an investigation involving a dangerous omega kidnapping ring.  He expects to crack his case while also helping a shattered omega regain his health, but Dean finds himself growing unexpectedly attached to the stubborn, independent grad student.  But what will he do when it turns out that Castiel is more closely linked to the investigation than any of them thought?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will change as the story develops.
> 
> I'm a new writer, so constructive criticism welcome :-)

Castiel is not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation.

He’s always prided himself on being exceptionally level headed. Despite his parents’ assumptions and his brothers’ teasing, he knows that he has solid, common sense. Regardless of the usual omega stereotype - helpless, feckless, and constantly in need of rescuing - he has learned to trust his instinct and abilities, to know that he can get himself out of trouble when needed. So when things start to get bad at home just after his 15th birthday - really bad - he does the only thing a level headed person could do under those circumstances.

He runs.

 

He doesn’t remember much from his first few months on his own; pining sickness is really nothing to joke about. Castiel runs on adrenaline alone for the first week, high on the thrill of making it out and the residual terror of his initial flight. After that, though, the fever sets in. There are weeks of it, coming and going, switching between a low fever that just makes him tired and a high fever that leaves his head pounding and his skin aching. It’s all a blur of nausea and exhaustion, and the parts he does remember feel as if they happened to someone else. He knows that he was sitting on the floor of the cheapest hotel room in Tennessee, awake at 4 in the morning, when he realized with absolute certainty that the pining sickness would kill him if it didn’t let up soon. He remembers that he cried, but he doesn’t remember what it felt like. He assumes he must have been scared.

But the fever eventually subsides, until all that remains is a bone-rattling cough that leaves him gasping for air and gagging over the sink when it attacks. The cough lingers for months, but he can stifle it with enough medication to go out in public without drawing attention to himself, so he starts to look for work. The job opportunities for an underage, unregistered omega are few and far between - as are his skills, if he’s honest with himself - but Castiel is smart enough to know that there are a few positions that no one would look twice at a young omega holding. Childcare suits him well, and anyone who bothers to notice a teenage omega tending to a small child would have no reason to think anything amiss. And if Castiel can come to an agreement with the child’s parents that there’s no need to report their arrangement to the IRS - or pack leadership - then that’s a win-win for everyone. There’s very little money in it, but some families let him stay with them if he provides his services for a small allowance. Living off the register with an established family is the safest that Castiel has ever been, but he is always careful to move on before he gets to attached. He has entirely too much sense to do anything that might risk leaving him with pining sickness again.

 

Castiel already knew how to run, but it was Charlie who taught him how to hide. They met in New Orleans, after he had spent just over a year caring for families across Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana, and she immediately recognizes the quick mind behind his carefully pleasant expression. Charlie owns a bookshop near the French Quarter that specializes in science fiction and fantasy, which Castiel soon realizes is a front for her real business as a mercenary hacker with a heart of gold. She teaches him how to score blockers and suppressants, and how to construct a cover story that leaves people convinced but uninterested. For his 17th birthday, she gives Castiel a counterfeit registry card that declares him to be a beta, a perfect fake that will hold up to any level of official scrutiny. She gives him a credit history that’s good enough to get his own apartment, and a job history that’s good enough to get him steady work. She even gives him a high school diploma in case he ever wants to further his education, even though he argues with her that it’s pointless. She gives him the world.

Castiel leaves two months later, right after the first time he realizes that Charlie is beginning to smell like home. Charlie doesn’t argue; she doesn’t know what he’s been running from, but she knows enough about how hard he’s been running to have her suspicions. She loves him like the brother she’s never had and so she lets him go with only a recurring calendar reminder about their weekly Google Hangout session. Castiel takes a series of suspiciously cheap buses along the length of I-10, until he runs out of road and finds himself staring into the Pacific Ocean off the Santa Monica pier. He is utterly exhausted and figures that this is about as far away from his family as he can get, so he finds a shoebox of an apartment in a mediocre neighborhood and a job at a bookstore near the university.

 

Castiel spends months on his own after that. He speaks to no one outside of customers at work, and he speaks to them as little as possible. His weekly video chats with Charlie are the only time he manages multiple consecutive sentences with the same person, but this contact feels safe given that he cannot scent or touch her. At first, he is mind-numbingly, achingly lonely, but he chalks it up as the cost of maintaining an independent life. The changes come slowly: his facial expressions weaken and fade, his voice grows harsh and deep from non-use, and his mannerisms take on a stilted quality. He loses any ability he had to control his scent, and all the subconscious skills necessary to infer a person’s meaning from their facial expression. He forgets to be lonely, and wakes up one morning to realize that no one has touched him - no matter how casually - in four months.  
He knows all about the long-term side effects of this degree of social isolation. Physical and psychological isolation are incredibly damaging to all secondary genders - although, people always seem more concerned when it happens to omegas. Humans evolved to live in packs, and pack animals suffer when left alone. Elevated heart rate and blood pressure, stress on the adrenal and nervous system all result in a dramatically shortened life span. But Castiel decides that whatever life he has - no matter how little it is - will be his own.

Given this outlook, no one is more surprised than Castiel when he starts school again. Other than the brief periods of furious activity when the students come in to buy their books at the beginning of each semester, the bookstore is often quiet and Castiel has taken to reading through the used books waiting to be reshelved as he sits at the front counter. He comes across a book on abstract algebra, and its so unexpectedly different from any math he’s learned before that he forgets the time and ends up closing the shop over an hour late. The structure of set theory and the quirkiness of non-Abelian groups shine through the numbing haze of loneliness that he has surrounded himself with. They have color and texture and taste, even though everything else in the world seems to have gone grey. For the first time since he ran, Castiel finds something he wants.  
He starts small, with the class in Abstract Algebra whose text kept him up that night. He moves through almost half the curriculum before someone in the math department notices that their star pupil isn’t actually enrolled in their program, and coaxes him into filling out the necessary paperwork. After another year, he applies to the University’s graduate program in mathematics, and is the only one surprised when he is accepted. He now has a small cubicle and an even smaller stipend that allows him to give up his job in the bookstore and spend almost all his waking hours working through proofs and calculations and simulations. Although his carefully maintained barriers keep his fellow students at a safe distance, he loves the rush of concentrating so hard on unraveling a problem that he goes under and the rest of the world fades away to nothingness. Castiel’s life is lonely and small and will likely be short, but it is infinitely precious and undeniably his own.

 

Castiel manages to stay in this beautiful limbo through his first two years of graduate school. But one morning at the start of his third year he sees a girl on the bus, and knows right away that something isn’t right. Her face is carefully blank and her scent is artificially calm, but he can tell from her eyes that she is screaming inside. Castiel knows those eyes. Without thinking, he gets off five stops early and follows her, periodically ducking behind cars and into vestibules to avoid being seen. His attempts at hiding would be comically ineffective, but the girl never once turns around. She enters a warehouse in the industrial district at the end of what must be the only empty street in Los Angeles, and Castiel sneaks through the fire escape to look through the high windows. What he sees inside leaves him vomiting onto the metal grating at his feet.  
With shaking hands, Castiel fishes his phone out of the pocket of his backpack. He usually keeps all of the location tracking features turned off - Charlie taught him well - but he takes a moment to make sure that every available tracking option is selected. He knows what his chances are of coming out of this in one piece. While climbing down the fire escape, he dials 911 and tells the calm voice that answers that a meth lab has caught fire in an abandoned warehouse. After he gives her the address, he ignores the rest of her questions but keeps the phone line open. He puts his cell on speaker phone and turns the volume all the way down, so that the dispatcher can hear what’s going on around him but he can’t hear her. He then gingerly places it in his front shirt pocket, and enters the warehouse.

Castiel slips into the warehouse and immediately looks around. The men with guns who he had seen patrolling earlier are gone, and all that is left are a row of cages along the far wall right next to a makeshift medical station. Half the cages are empty, and he tries hard not to think about what that means. He resolutely does not look at the medical station, but can’t help noticing out of the corner of his eye that the human-like shape on the table doesn’t seem big enough to be a person - pieces, sure, but not a whole person.

The people in the cages are painfully thin, and don’t look up as Castiel sneaks over. The girl from the bus is in the last cage in the row, curled up in a ball and rocking as she hums softly to herself. She notices Castiel with a start, but stills immediately when he holds a finger to his lips. Castiel takes a careful look at the closure on the first cage, startling when he realizes that it’s not locked. He opens it silently and shakes the man inside awake. The man starts screaming as soon as his eyes open. Castiel tries to shush him, but he can already footsteps in the next room, rapid and heavy, and he knows it’s already too late.

Castiel tries to run, but the men with the guns catch him almost immediately. One of them tackles him, slamming his head into the floor so hard that the edges of his vision start to sparkle and swim. As Castiel is dragged towards the table in the medical room, he starts to talk, frantically describing what is happening and what he sees in as much detail as he can manage. The men with the guns ignore him at first, laughing among themselves as they clear off the medical table and throw Castiel onto the sticky, stained surface. He feels the pinch of a needle, followed almost immediately by a rush of heavy, euphoric calm. It is only when they start to roughly cut off his clothes that they notice the phone in his pocket, still connected to the 911 operator. One of them crushes the phone under his boot. Castiel knows they are arguing from the harsh tone of their voices, but he can’t make out anything they are saying and he’s too groggy to care. He hears sirens in the distance, and soothes himself by thinking of the theorem he’s been trying to prove for the last month. His mind goes quiet and orderly, and he lets the familiar lull of concentration wash over him. But the last thing Castiel thinks before he gives in and lets the dark take over is that he’s really not sure how he ended up in this situation.


	2. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester enters the elevator at LAPD Central Division balancing two coffees in one hand, with bleary eyes and his tie half undone. He manages to put himself together a little by the time he gets up to his divisions’ bullpen on the ninth floor. He heads to his desk immediately, pausing only to drop one coffee off in front of his partner.

“Late night, brother?” Benny looks up, removing an old pair of headphones patched together with electrical tape. He looks just as exhausted as Dean feels, but even so the faintest hint of a fond smirk plays on his lips.

Dean scrubs a hand over this face. “Yeah, going over the reports from the Warehouse raid. We were so close, man. Security tapes from across the street show Alastair’s gang leaving no more than two minutes before the first patrol car shows up. We just cannot catch a break.”

“But this time there were survivors. Witnesses.”

“Yep. Four people in the cages. All omegas; late teens, early twenties. Two are in intensive care; doc’s not sure when they are going to wake up. The guy who was awake when the raid went down is in the psych ward; no one’s been able to get anything out of him since. The last girl is being looked after by Omega Services. I didn’t get much out of her at the scene, but they’re supposed to be bringing her by for a follow-up interview soon.”

“What about the guy on the table?”

Dean flips through the paperwork cluttering his desk. “Registry card pegged him as Castiel Novak, beta, age 26. Had a university ID and some math books on him. Massive dose of opioids in his system.”

“User?” Benny asks, dropping his empty coffee cup in the trash.

“Doesn’t seem like it. No priors or track marks, and the injection site was in the back of his neck - not the usual spot for a junkie. EMS managed to get enough Narcan in him to keep from coding out in the ambulance, but whatever he was on is not the usual shit. He’s been in and out. Nurse I talked to says that whatever language he’s speaking in when he’s awake, it’s not English.”

Benny shrugs. “We should go back to the crime scene this afternoon. I’ve been trying to match the 911 recording up with the evidence from the scene, but all the parts don’t make sense. We can walk it through, play it out.”

Dean nods, and goes back to reading statements from the responding officers. Benny slips his headphones back on, and continues studying crime scene photos. This is Dean’s favorite part of being partnered with him: despite his dry sense of humor, Benny is all quiet competence. Dean would peg him as a gentle giant, but he remembers seeing Benny take down half a motorcycle gang during his days undercover busting meth runners. No matter how calm he seems while sitting at a desk, the guy knows his way around a fight.

They work doggedly for the next two hours, occasionally interrupted by telephone calls and emails as the techs work their way through evidence from the scene. When Dean twists his back and stretches a little before lunch, he sees Missouri Moseley, his favorite social worker, standing in the hall outside the elevators with a slim red-haired woman. He raps on Benny’s desk to get his attention, and jerks his head towards the elevator lobby. Benny nods once, and then starts to gather up his notes while Dean goes over to greet them.

 

The afternoon is half over by the time the interview is finished. Dean stares vacantly at the empty chairs that had been occupied by Missouri Moseley and her charge for the last several hours when Benny heads out to escort them downstairs. Interviewing omega victims is always a bit tricky: like most detectives, Benny and he are both alphas, and have to carefully manage their scent to project their concern for the victim rather than their anger for the perpetrator. It’s especially hard when the victim is someone like Anna Milton. Dean was pleased to see that her eyes had lost the drug-fueled glaze that had softened them the first time he had tried to interview her at the warehouse, but that was before he spent hours watching a calm woman describe the worst experiences of her life with an almost eerie awareness of what she had been through. By the end of it, Dean’s biting back every protective instinct he had, and almost wishes that Anna’s eyes were still vague and unfocused instead of agonizingly clear.

Benny renters the room, resting his hand on the back of Dean’s neck for a minute. Dean smiles up at him and then sighs, asking “So, what did we learn?”

Benny takes the seat opposite Dean, facing the two-way mirror at the back of the room. “Anna Milton, 19. Been missing for two years. Fits the general description of the other omegas who have gone missing: underage, unmated, from a small town, and working in a job outside her home. Babysitter. She was walking home from work one day - she says someone stopped her to ask for directions, and then everything went black. She’s a bit unclear on the next couple of months, but she remembers spending a long time in the back of a truck. Says it was winter when she got to the warehouse - so what, 6-8 months ago now?”

Dean thinks for a moment, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Sounds about right. She says that she went through three heats when she was in there, so no less than 6 months, no more than 9?”

Benny nods. “The medical testing she describes would have taken a couple of months at any rate.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “Jesus, the testing. What were they looking for?”

“It sounded like fertility testing, mostly, but no one would have run all those tests on an omega that young. I have a call in to a doc for a consult. But Anna seems to think that they didn’t get the results they were looking for with her. So they started to look for other ways to use her.”

Dean smells the anger creeping into Benny’s scent and decides to redirect the conversation. Even though he knows they’ll eventually have to go through every assault Anna described in order to build a case for trial, they don’t have to do it today. “Including running errands, right? Any signs that she asked for help before this week?”

Benny studies Dean for a moment, and then replies. “No. They had her under a combination of heavy narcotics and alpha compulsion, plus the isolation would have bonded her to them no matter what she wanted.”

“But then what changed? She said that she saw that Novak guy on the bus, and he must have followed her to the warehouse. Did she say anything to him?”

“I don’t think she did. She said that he kept looking at her, but I don’t think they actually talked.”

“Then how did he know? Was he involved?”

“Anna said she’d never seen him before, and everyone we’ve seen in Alastair’s gang has been an alpha. Plus, he reported a meth lab when he called 911. Doesn’t sound like he had any idea what was going on.”

Dean stared at Benny for a moment with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know what that guy’s deal is, but there’s no way he thought that was a meth lab. I haven’t seen Breaking Bad, but even I know that meth labs don’t have cages with naked people in them.”

Benny opens his mouth to argue, but his phone rings before he can speak. Dean sees the soft look creep over his face as he answers, but Benny’s deep voice remains professional. Dean is half lost in thought when he realizes that Benny’s scent has twisted with surprise, and he looks over at his partner. Benny stands up and quickly starts gathering his papers, but he pauses for a moment to muffle the phone’s microphone with his hand. “Hospital; now. You are never going to believe this.”

 

The first thing that Dean notices is the scent. Lemon and honey: sharp and bright, with a deep, wild sweetness underneath. Undeniably omega. Dean’s mouth starts to water slightly, but he can tell that something is deeply wrong when he inhales deeper. The scent is thready and unfocused. If he didn’t know better, Dean would think that it came from an omega on the cusp on maturity but, although there’s no way the man sitting in the hospital bed is 26 years old, he’s also definitely an adult.

Dean stares at the heavily bruised, dark haired man until Benny enters, flushed slightly from his brief consult with the doctor. Benny shoots him a surprised look when he realizes Dean has yet to start the interview, but then turns to the figure in the bed.

“Mr. Novak, we’d like to ask you some questions.” Benny says, his voice and scent calm. Benny pauses for a moment and, even though Dean knows this is where he would usually speak, he’s still staring at the man in the bed. Dean stays like that, frozen, until Benny follows the pause with a hard elbow to his ribs.

Dean grunts slightly, and shakes his head to clear it. “Mr. Novak, can you walk us through what happened on Tuesday?”

The man - Castiel Novak, Dean corrects himself - tilts his head to the side, studying Dean. When he starts to speak, his voice sounds deep and gravely, almost unused. “What would you like to know?”

“Start with the bus. What stop did you get on at?”

“Grand and Pico. I take the express to school everyday.”

“USC?”

“UCLA.”

“But you got off the bus...why?”

Castiel stares at him a moment. “It seemed appropriate under the circumstances.”

“Appropriate?”

“There was a girl...she looked like someone I used to know.”

“So what...you followed her?”

Castiel exhales shortly. “Does it really matter? I followed her off the bus, saw something going on, and called for help. What else could you possibly need to know?”

Dean’s eyes go narrow for a moment. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t mind knowing why you told the 911 dispatcher that it was a meth lab.”

“I thought they’d send someone faster if they didn’t know it was just omegas.”

Dean stops for a second, blinking slow at his notepad. Benny rests his hand on his shoulder for a moment, and Dean realizes his scent has flared alarmingly. But when he looks up at Castiel, there’s no sign that the other man has noticed. Dean looks at him searchingly for a second, and is about to speak when Benny steps in.

“Maybe we should try this some other time. When you’ve recovered more. Is there anyone we should call?”

“Thank you for the offer, but that’s not necessary.” Castiel’s face is blank and his scent is still too unfocused to read, but Dean notices the brief moment of panic in his eyes. A notion that’s been flitting around in the back of Dean’s mind hardens into a suspicion.

“We have to call someone.” Dean keeps his voice level, reasonable. If we can’t locate a responsible alpha or beta, then we need to contact Omega Services.”

“That might be true - if I was an omega. But, as you’ll note from the identification card that I’m sure you’ve already retrieved from my wallet, I’m a beta.”

Dean pauses for a second, unsure of how to respond. Benny steps in.

“Hey, look...whatever it is, it’s ok now, alright? We don’t have to call your parents or your family or anyone like that. We just need to make sure you’ve got someone to look after you.”

Castiel tilts his head. “What makes you think I’m not capable of looking after myself.”

Dean bites back an impulse to point out the bruises and hospital bed. “It’s nothing personal. Just the law, man.”

“Right...but again, I’m not an omega.”

Dean is about to start arguing when the door swings open. A tall, familiar man in a suit walks in, leafing through a folder of notes. Dean grimaces slightly - suits mean lawyers, and lawyers are always trouble, especially this one - before plastering what he hopes is a disarming grin across his face.

“Hiya Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes imperceptibly, before finally looking up from his paperwork. “Hello Dean. I’d like a word with my client.”


	3. Chapter 2

Dean waits in the hallway, leaning against the wall and watching as Benny tries to flirt with the pretty doctor treating Castiel. He can just make out the murmur of voices from inside Castiel’s hospital room - not enough to hear what’s going on, but enough to know that Sam’s not going to be happy when he comes out. There’s a brief argument that - amazingly - Sam seems to lose, followed by what seems to be a lengthy explanation by Sam. Dean’s about to call Benny over to listen when the hospital room door opens.

Sam immediately closes the door behind him, and sighs slightly when he sees that Dean has been waiting outside. He’s got the sharp, determined expression that Dean has come to think of as his “lawyer face”, but there’s a tightness in his eyes that isn’t usually there. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Benny and the doctor head back over, but he doesn’t wait for them to start. “You know I have to report this, Sam.”

“You would, if he were an omega. But my client is a beta, and that means there’s nothing to report.”

“Oh come on - you have to be able to smell that.” Dean can still make out traces of Castiel’s scent clinging to Sam. It’s just as good as it was inside the hospital room, and Dean shakes his head slightly to clear it.

“Amazingly, Dean, your sense of smell is not evidence. His paperwork is in order, and it all reports that he’s a beta.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Wait, if that’s true, how are you representing him? Wouldn’t expect a beta to have a lawyer from the Omega Services Project.”

“It hasn’t been the Omega Services Project in 15 years. The Center for Gender and Equality represents anyone who faces discrimination based on their actual or perceived gender. Mr. Novak wants to be sure that his privacy interests are protected during the course of this investigation, regardless of any misperceptions about his secondary gender.”

Dean sighs, suddenly exhausted. “You know this can’t be good for him, right? I’ve never seen someone so shut down.”

A pained look passes briefly across Sam’s face. “Not my place to say, Dean. It’s my place to represent his interests, and he’s been crystal clear about what he wants.” Sam pauses for a second, and looks over to make sure that Benny is also listening. “Detectives Winchester and Lafitte, I’m sure you don’t need any reminders, but let’s just be clear. Under California law, you are not allowed to report any concerns you might have about my client’s secondary gender to either state officials or pack authorities without clear and convincing evidence that he is an omega in immediate distress. Given the multiple forms of identification he’s already produced, you are nowhere near that threshold. If you need to question him about his secondary gender during the course of your investigation, I expect you to call me first. Mr. Novak will be exercising all of his privacy rights, so you’d better have an extremely good reason for asking.” Sam pauses for a second, redirecting his next attention to the slender woman in a lab coat standing next to Benny. “Dr. Kormos, that also applies for you. Mr. Novak has requested that no medical tests be performed unless they are strictly related to treating the injuries from his recent attack. You don’t have his consent to perform any testing that might reveal his secondary gender.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue again, but stops when he sees the conflicted look in Sam’s eyes. Instead, he presses his hand to the back of Sam’s neck for a moment. The expression on Sam’s face wavers slightly before his lawyer face snaps back into place.

“Now that we’re all on the same page, I need to leave before I’m late for a hearing. Detective Lafitte, Doctor Kormos, it’s good to see you again.” Sam pauses for a moment. “Dean, I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s tonight.”

 

Dean and Benny spend the rest of the afternoon walking the crime scene. The last time they were there was two days ago, right after the warehouse was cleared by responding officers. It feels like a different place today - surrounded by mostly empty buildings on a dead end street, the warehouse is unnaturally quiet for LA. As they stand outside the main doors, Dean realizes that this is what Castiel must have felt when he was here. Like accidentally stumbling into a gap in the world.

They start outside the main doors, newly padlocked and sealed with crime scene tape. Benny pulls out his tape player, and starts replaying the 911 call. He pauses it when the rusty sound of the main door opening can be heard. “So, Castiel Novak started describing the inside of the warehouse before he actually entered. Do you think he was just making it up?”

Dean thinks for a second. “No, I don’t think so. It sounded like he had a pretty good idea what was really going on when he lied to the 911 operator. Must have seen inside somehow.”

“All the windows are just under the roof line. Fire escape?”

Dean nods, and he and Benny head up a narrow set of iron stairs leading to a landing near the top of the building. It’s been days since Castiel was up there, but California’s in a drought and it hasn’t rained for weeks. Dean can still see the dried vomit. “So he came up here to scope out the place, and must have had some idea of what was going on. Then the 911 call.”

Benny grunts, and they head back down the stairs. “Novak makes the initial report, and then leaves the phone running. Sound’s muffled though. Did he forget to turn it off before he put it in his pocket?”

Dean see-saws his hand for a moment, then cuts open the crime scene tape and unlocks the door. As they step inside, Benny restarts the tape of the 911 call. For a long time, all that can be heard is breathing, then a high-pitched metal squeal and the screaming starts again. Benny pauses the tape. “I’m pretty sure that’s John Doe 1. He was found in the first cage over there. Door open, but he was curled up in the back.”

Dean wrinkles his brow. “D’ya think Castiel did anything to him?”

Benny shakes his head. “Doubt it. Not enough time between the door opening and when the screaming starts.” 

He restarts the tape. There’s a brief scuffling sound, and then angry voices. Not Castiel’s, Dean thinks immediately. The voices are angry; there’s too much emotion and inflection to have come from the gravelly voice of the scruffy man in the hospital bed. When Castiel’s voice picks up again, Dean’s face twists in surprise. He isn’t arguing with the angry voices; he’s calmly but swiftly describing the people in the cages against the wall and the medical equipment in the center of the room. Dean winces as he hears blows land, hard.

“Fuck.” Dean scrubs his hands through his hair. “He was trying to leave a record.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Benny pauses the tape again as they walk towards the table in the center of the room. “Plus, I checked with the phone company. Yesterday was the first time that location tracking has ever been enabled on that phone, just before the 911 call. He knew what he was doing.”

“Right. I’d believe that up until the point that he was getting his ass handed to him.”

“Yeah, sure, but you don’t hear him screaming. He’s the calmest one in the room, until the phone goes dead.” Benny points to pile of phone pieces on the floor, labeled with a neon evidence marker. 

Dean grunts in reluctant acknowledgment. “He must have seen their faces - doubt they were trying to hide them. He wasn’t supposed to make it out alive.”

“He describes them, a bit. He was more focused on the omegas. It’s fast, and he starts to get a bit disjointed, probably when the drugs were kicking in. But still, he should be able to identify them. And they probably know it.”

“Shit, we need to get him under protection. Can we post a guard at his room?”

“Already done, brother.”

 

Dean and Benny keep trying to talk it through as they drive back to Central. They spent another half hour walking through the warehouse, but don’t get anything they haven’t already gotten from the crime tech guys. There’s very little physical evidence, and most of the witnesses left behind are still incapable of talking. Even Anna can only explain what happened to her - not why. And juries need a why.

Dean drops Benny off at Central, and heads out to the small house in Echo Park where his parents still live. They bought the house when they were newlyweds and Dean’s dad had just joined the force, and real estate was much cheaper. Over the years, the neighborhood has changed but their house hasn’t. It’s still a cheerful yellow with white curtains in the window and flowers in the front yard. As he pulls up, Dean smiles absently at the basketball hoop hanging over the garage and his dad’s vintage Mustang in the driveway. When he retired, his Dad handed him the keys to the Impala that he’d been driving around since Dean was a little kid, planning to restore a broken-down car he bought at a police auction. Less than a year later, the Mustang purred just as nicely as the Impala, although Dean would always be partial to the car he’d grown up with.

As Dean walks through the door, he shuts his eyes briefly at the smell of family and home. His mother Mary hugs him as soon as he walks into the house, resting her forehead against his cheek for a moment. His dad John has always been gruffer, more distant, but still slings an arm around him briefly as they walk into the living room. Sam is already there, sitting on a couch with his arm around his girlfriend Jessica. They both hug Dean: Jessica daintily, while Sam’s hug turns into a wrestling match halfway through. Dean rolls his eyes over the fuss, but is grateful. Even though he’s lived alone for two years, he still sometimes misses the casual contact of his family - of what would have once been called his pack. Weekly dinners aren’t quite the same thing, but they still keep him close enough that he never feels lonely.

They eventually gather at the table, bickering warmly over burgers and beer. After dinner, Dean steers the conversation towards the man in the hospital. Even though he knows by now there’s nothing he can say to get Sam to break confidentiality, he know Sam well enough that he can get almost as much information by reading his expressions as he could by talking to him. Sam has almost instant bitch face, but Jessica picks up the conversation.

“Yeah, Sam mentioned he had a new client. Beta who you think is an omega?”

“He is an omega. Anyways, he’s a student at UCLA. I thought you might have seen him. Castiel Novak.”

Jessica pauses for a moment, thoughtfully. “Nope, I haven’t heard of anyone with that name coming through the CGE clinic. But that doesn’t mean anything, especially if he’s under the radar.”

“Yeah, ‘under the radar.’” Dean exhales with a puff. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

Jessica stares at him, her forehead creasing and her scent flaring slightly. “Dean, why wouldn’t someone want to do that?”

Dean sits back in his chair. He sometimes forgets that Jess isn’t from California, and not every state is as progressive about Omega rights. She’s never talked about her childhood to Dean, but he knows she left home shortly after her first heat. He’s not entirely sure what happened in between then and when she showed up at UCLA as a public health student at 18, but Sam is fiercely protective of her in a way that makes Dean sure it wasn’t good.

Dean keeps his mouth shut, and nods once. Jessica smiles at him fondly, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Sam shifts his body towards her. “Where did you say he was from again?” she asks.

“His ID says born in Texas. Then again, it also says he’s a beta, so…” Dean trails off. “His scent is so off, it’s terrifying. He doesn’t smell bad, but it’s so undeveloped. And I don’t think he picks up on other people’s scents at all.”

Jess nods. “We learned about that in one of my gender development classes last year. Extended pining sickness, leading to social isolation disorder. Supposed to be absolutely agonizing, especially in the early stages. It’s not just an omega thing, you know - all genders can suffer from it. But historically it’s been more prevalent in omegas, since chastity customs made it difficult for them to get enough skin-to-skin contact. But if his scent is going, then this is something that’s been going on for a long time. It’ll kill him eventually.”

Dean looks pointedly at Sam, who meets his gaze without blinking. 

“Not my call to make, Dean. It’s my job to protect his interests, and it’s his job to decide what those interests are. He gets to make his own choices.” Sam looks conflicted, but Jessica is nodding fiercely.

Dean barely lets him get to the end of his sentence. “But they’re bad choices.”

From there the conversation quickly devolves into squabbling. Mary is about to break it up, but then John speaks. “You’re both missing the point. Do you have any idea how badly he must have been failed, how scared he must have been, for him to suffer like that rather than seek someone out?”

Dean thinks back to the 8 years his dad spent on an omega crimes task force, back in its early days before it got folded into major crimes. Dean was just a kid at the time, but he still remembers the exhausted and distracted look in his Dad’s face when he came home from work. Crimes against omegas weren’t taken as seriously then as they are now, and the stories told by his older colleagues after a few drinks are stomach-turning. Even after becoming a cop himself, Dean has purposefully never asked his dad about those days; he’s not sure he wants to know. 

But Dean knows those days are long past, and he’s just trying to help. He opens his mouth to start arguing again, when Sam’s phone rings.

Sam picks up the call immediately. He doesn’t say anything to Dean, but his eyes flash over once and his scent sours slightly in a way that tells Dean something’s up. Sam ends the conversation quickly and then leaves immediately, pausing only to kiss Jess and his Mom goodbye and mumble a distracted excuse about a last-second issue with a brief that’s due tomorrow.

Dean doesn’t buy it for a second. A short call to Benny and then the guard posted outside Castiel’s room confirms what he already knows: Castiel is gone.


	4. Chapter 3

Dean brushes a kiss against his mother’s cheek on his way out the door, and is back on the phone with Benny before he makes it out to the car. By the time Dean gets to the end of the street, they’ve put out a request that any cop who runs across Castiel hold him as a potential witness; by the time Dean is pulling onto the 101, he and Benny have made plans to split up. While Benny heads to the hospital, Dean puts on lights and sirens and speeds to Castiel’s address.

By 8:30 pm rush hour in Los Angeles is starting to taper off, and it takes Dean less than 20 minutes to make it downtown. Even though he feels calm, all of his senses are heightened, hyper-focused. When he gets to Castiel’s address, Dean throws his car into park and leaves it, pulled haphazardly against the curb with a police placard on the dash. He follows an old woman pushing a grocery cart into the apartment building, and takes the stairs two at a time until he’s made it to the fifth floor. When he sees the lock on the door is smashed, he draws his gun and quietly shoulders the door open.

As soon as he opens the door, he sees the floor covered in ripped books and papers, and what appears to be the cheapest bookcase IKEA makes tipped over onto the floor. There’s a mattress on the floor that looks like someone’s torn into it with a knife, and a broken chair tilted against the wall. Castiel sits on the floor, looking dazed but no more bruised than he was before, so Dean reholsters his gun and goes to sit down next to him. Castiel startles at Dean’s approach; a terrified look flashing across his face before his characteristic blank mask snaps back into place.

“Hey,” Dean starts gently. “Any idea what happened here?”

Castiel’s face remains blank, his voice monotone. “You’re the police officer; you tell me.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t redecorating.” At Castiel’s withering look, Dean continues. “C’mon man, help me out here. Have you had any trouble recently besides the warehouse? Anyone else might want to hurt you?”

Castiel shakes his head, wincing slightly as the movement visibly pulls the stitches on his neck.

He’s had more cooperative witnesses, but Dean can work with this. “OK, good. Any idea how they might have found your place?”

Castiel looks off to the side. “They looked through my wallet. Before they found the phone.”

Dean sucks in a breath through his teeth. “And you didn’t think to tell us this?”

“I didn’t think I’d be here long enough for this to matter.” He traces his finger along the spine of a broken book, sighing slightly.

Dean purposely doesn’t ask where he thought he was going to go. “OK, but now that this has happened and you’re still here, we need to find somewhere to keep you safe.”

“That’s not necessary. I can look after myself.”

“Not saying you can’t. Just think you could use a little help, that’s all.” Dean sighs when Castiel tilts his head but says nothing. “Look, right now you are the only person who seems to have any idea what was going on in that warehouse. You are the best witness we have in an investigation into series of serious crimes, and the state of California can hold you until we’ve got through the investigation and trial. Could be years.”

Castiel’s scent flares, shifting into something angry and sharp for just a moment.

Undeterred, Dean changes tack. “I listened to your 911 tape, y’know. You ignored the alphas kicking the crap out of you, and tried to describe the omegas across the room. You wanted us to know who they were, that they were in danger. You think they were the only ones being held like that? You went in there because you wanted to help. This is part of that.”

Castiel looks up, opening his mouth to speak. But before he can get any words out, they hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, and Sam bursts into the room.

 

This time, Dean gets to be in the room as Castiel and Sam argue. He has to give the kid credit. Sam is visibly worried and panting from running up five flights of stairs as he enters the room, but still manages to school his expression and pick up on the situation within seconds. Sam sits on the edge of the ruined mattress and starts talking.

“I thought I told you to stay put and not talk to anyone.”

Castiel tilts a shoulder. “I didn’t expect to be around long enough for it to matter.”

“This changes things, you know that, right?” Sam scrubs a hand over his face.

Castiel looks at him quizzically. “Why does it matter?”

“Because before, they had no reason to suspect you would leave the jurisdiction, and no justification for investigating your secondary gender. But now they have grounds to hold you as a material witness and, since you have no money for a bond and no ties to the community, that means they can detain you in county jail to ensure your appearance at trial. There’s almost know expectation of privacy for people in jail, Mr. Novak. They’ll test your gender identity during intake, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Castiel opens his mouth to start talking, but Sam cuts him off. “Oh no, there’s more. Given the discrepancy between your gender identity and the identity listed on your identification, I suspect your identification is fake - although it’s the best fake I’ve ever seen. That’s a federal crime, Mr. Novak, and they’re required to report it to the Department of Homeland Security. Whoever created it for you is also at risk.”

Castiel blanches at that. “I’m never going to tell them about her. Ever.”

“Well, you might need to start thinking about that. Because they’re also going to put your description into the inter-pack database for runaway omegas. We’ve never talked about what happened before the day at the warehouse, but I’ve got the impression you don’t want to go back to where ever it is you came from. I can try, but I might not be able to prevent it. And whoever your alpha is, they’ll be able to compel you to talk.”

Castiel trembles, folding in on himself. His face is blank and his eyes shuttered, but his scent kicks up wildly. Dean recognizes the now-familiar smell of lemon and honey, but this time the lemon has gone rancid and the honey is cloying and overwhelming, like something rotting. Sam reaches out and tries to touch Castiel’s shoulder, but he scrambles backwards as soon as Sam’s finger’s brush against his shirt. Dean has been leaning against the wall watching, and he steps forward protectively. Sam looks up for a moment, narrowing his eyes briefly at Dean before returning his gaze to Castiel.

“The only way we can avoid that is if we find some way to convince the police that you’ll be a cooperative witness without detaining you. If you admit to being an omega, then we can get someone to step in as your acting alpha. If your acting alpha is someone with ties to the community, and agrees to guarantee your participation in this investigation, then they’ll be no need for a material witness warrant, and no need to put anything into the inter-pack database.”

Dean has to step in here. “Who do you have in mind, Sammy?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You, actually. I can’t imagine that you’d be able to find cause for a material witness warrant for an omega in your care. You have strong ties to the community, and you’ve worked enough with Omega Services that I don’t think they’ll object.”

Dean says nothing, biting his lower lip. He inhales slowly, and sits down on the floor in front of Castiel. He waits until Castiel looks up before speaking. “What do you think?”

Castiel manages eye contact for a moment, and then stares off to the side. He doesn’t say anything, just struggles to get his increasingly erratic breathing under control. Dean takes another deep breath, and tries again. “It’ll be ok, y’know. My apartment is safe, and we can make sure you’re protected. Get you healthy too, maybe? You’ll get to help people who are in trouble. And the investigation won’t take up too much of your time. You don’t have to run away and give up your entire life.”

That gets Castiel’s attention. “I can keep going to school?”

Dean pauses for a moment. “As long as you participate in the investigation, and stay healthy, then you can do whatever you want. But I mean that, Castiel. You’re going to get checked out by a doctor - completely this time - and we’re going to follow whatever they tell us to do.”

Castiel’s eyes search Dean’s face. Dean tries to keep his scent as open and honest as possible, before he remembers that Castiel can’t smell him anyways. Finally, Castiel nods.

From behind him, Dean can hear Sam exhale. When he turns around, his brother has his lawyer face on, although Dean knows him well enough to see the relief in his eyes. Sam looks directly at Dean. “All set?” he asks. 

“Yep.”

“Good,” replies Sam. “I’ll draw up the paperwork.”

 

Dean’s been a cop for over a decade and he’s come across acting alphas before, even though he’s never been one. It’s meant to be a legal substitute for what is fundamentally a biological relationship. So Dean knows, rationally, that there’s no hormonal reason that he should be fighting the impulse to bundle Castiel up in the safety of his apartment. Still, as he drives Castiel back to the hospital to get checked out by Dr. Kormos, there’s a part of him that can barely resist the urge to take Castiel home, and keep him there. Instead, Dean tightens his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles whiten, and takes the shortest route possible to the hospital.

He’s called ahead, and Benny and the doctor are waiting for them when they get there. Benny raises his eyebrow when he finds out just how they’ve secured Castiel’s participation in the investigation, but says nothing. Dr. Kormos, on the other hand, says plenty. After carefully examining Castiel, she gives Dean and Castiel a lengthy list of instructions for addressing what she calls the most advanced case of social isolation disorder she’s ever seen in someone who was still verbal. Dean listens carefully, but most of it strikes him as just common sense stuff. There’s no medicine or therapy to address social isolation disorder directly. Instead, he’s supposed to make sure that Castiel is gradually reintroduced to physical contact, preferably through consistent touch from the same person.

The doctor also pulls Dean out into the hallway and reads him the riot act, letting him know in no uncertain terms exactly how fragile Castiel’s condition is and how carefully she expects Dean to treat him. Benny can hear every word from his position slightly down the hall and, when she’s finished, watches her leave with a slightly dazed smile on his face. Dean is about to lay into him for not being any help with the good doctor, when Sam shows up with the paperwork to sign. Dean signs it, accepting responsibility for Castiel; Castiel signs it, acknowledging Dean’s authority. Dean sighs with relief when he realizes he can finally take Castiel home.

 

Castiel is silent the entire drive home and barely lifts his head as he follows Dean up the stairs from the parking garage to his second floor apartment, walking with a slight limp. Dean unlocks his front door and ushers Castiel in, locking two deadbolts and pulling the chain lock shut behind him. By the time he turns around, Castiel is standing awkwardly in the middle of his living room. He’s still wearing the oversized scrubs he borrowed the first time he left the hospital, fists balled tightly and arms trembling. Dean looks at him carefully, trying to project as much calm as he possibly can. He carefully steps next to Castiel and, remembering the doctor’s words, places his hand on Castiel’s arm below the short sleeve of his scrub shirt. Castiel just squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“Hey there. It’s ok - no one’s going to hurt you here, remember?” Dean takes a deep breath. “Look, it’s almost morning. Why don’t we hold off on the grand tour until tomorrow. I’ll get you a change of clothes and you can take a shower while I fix us something to eat. We can get a couple hours of shut-eye, and then take it from there. Sound good?”

Castiel nods his head but doesn’t open his eyes. Dean takes a step back, and when Castiel seems stable on his feet, goes into his bedroom and selects the warmest sweatpants and softest tee shirt he can find. He puts them in bathroom along with a clean towel. After gently nudging Castiel towards the bathroom, Dean steps into the kitchen get started on a late night snack. After about 10 minutes, just as he’s pulling a pan full of eggs and bacon off the stove, he hears Castiel walk in.

Dean turns around, and almost drops the pan. Castiel is standing in the doorway to his tiny kitchen, completely naked. Wet hair sticks up from his head in a dozen different directions, and there’s a constellation of blue and purple bruises decorating his thighs and chest. His face is carefully blank, except for wide, terrified eyes and a faint tremor across his lips.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short-ish chapter, but the *entire* thing is just Cas and Dean. Enjoy!

“Okay.”

Dean blinks slowly, twice. He tries to meet Castiel’s eyes, but the smaller man has kept his eyes trained on Dean’s faded linoleum floor since walking into the kitchen. Dean struggles to keep his attention on Castiel’s face. When his eyes slip down, they catch on pale skin, sharp hip bones, and trembling fingers. Dean suddenly remembers that his own fingers are still gripping the pan and he places it back on the stove without looking away from Castiel.

“Okay.”

Dean notices that he is staring. He tries to say something else, do something else, but his mind is suddenly blank. Shit. Did the doctor tell him anything that would be helpful in this situation? Dean struggles to remember, before he realizes that he has no idea what this situation actually is. Sam has been lecturing him about the mistreatment of omegas since he was still a kid, but there’s nothing that Dean can think of now that would explain _this_.

“Okay.”

Castiel finally looks up at Dean, tilting his head slightly. “You said that already”

Dean presses his lips together to keep from repeating himself again. “Yep, I did.” When no further explanation appears to be forthcoming, Dean presses on. “So, what’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel’s eyes slide from Dean’s face back to the floor.

Dean decides to try the direct approach. “Cas, why are you naked?”

Castiel says nothing, but his shoulders slump forward slightly. Dean heads towards the doorway to get a blanket for Castiel from the living room couch. The second he moves, Castiel’s scent flares wildly, transitioning from lemon to honey before taking on a stale, vacant scent. Castiel’s eyes go wide, and he starts gulping in huge, compulsive breaths of air.

Panic attack. Dean can remember what the doctor said to do about this. He eases quickly past Castiel and grabs the blanket off the couch, wrapping the naked man in it. Dean stands behind him and wraps one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders before easing them both back onto the couch. He holds him tight, pressed against him fully. Dean focuses on keeping his own scent calm, his breathing slow and steady. Castiel just trembles harder, but Dean holds him until the shaking stops. Eventually, Castiel’s breathing calms and slows, until it matches Dean’s.

When Dean is convinced that the danger is past, he decides to try again. “Alright. Maybe I should ask questions and you can just answer. Nod if that works.”

Dean feels Castiel nod against his chest. Good.

“Did you find the clothes I left for you in the bathroom?” Castiel nods.

“But you didn’t put them on?” There’s a longer pause this time, before Castiel nods again.

“Did you think that was what I wanted? What was expected of you?” Castiel nods. Dean decides to bite the bullet and just ask.

“You thought we were going to have sex?” Castiel nods hesitantly.

“Is that what you wanted?” Castiel shakes his head vigorously, his breath becoming rapid and unsteady again.

“Okay. Okay, okay.” Dean kicks himself mentally and struggles to find something more useful to say. “Alright. So, maybe we should just clarify a few things. When I say “we are going to sleep”, I mean that we are just going to sleep. That’s it. Not sure what it’s like where you’re from, but here is its normal for alphas and omegas that are … close … to share a bed. Just to sleep. Cuddling is good for everyone, y’know? Especially when you’re not feeling great.” Dean isn’t sure whether he should bring up Castiel’s condition, and quickly decides against it. “I’m your acting alpha, Cas, but that doesn’t have anything to do with sex.”

Dean wrinkles his forehead. “And, Cas...even if this was a sexual relationship, you know you’re always allowed to say no, right?”

Castiel freezes in his arms, but remains in control of his breathing.

“Not like that where you’re from?” Dean waits a long time for an answer.

“No. After you’ve been given to an alpha, you’re expected to abide by your alpha’s wishes.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s what you thought was happening here. And you were willing to agree to that?”

Castiel nods, and hides his face in the crook of Dean’s arm. Dean can feel the tears through his shirt, but Castiel’s voice doesn’t crack. “There was a woman, who helped me, after I . . . after I left. If you track her down, she’d be in danger. I couldn’t put her at risk.”

“It’s ok, man. Don’t have to.” Dean and Castiel lie there a while longer, with the sky just starting to lighten outside the window. Dean finally speaks again. “You’ve done a really good job of protecting everyone, y’know? You protected her, and the girl on the bus, and the omegas at the warehouse. I’m so proud of you.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything in response, but he relaxes just a bit in Dean’s arms. Dean nuzzles his neck in response, pressing his face up against the scent glands underneath Castiel’s ear. Castiel’s scent, which had been fluctuating wildly throughout the conversation, slowly becomes mellow and sweet and even.

“Think you’re ready to eat something now?” Dean smothers a smile as Castiel nods in response.

 

After the bacon and eggs are eaten and the dishes are washed, Dean sends Castiel to the bathroom again, this time with firm instructions to put on the clothes left for him and meet him in the bedroom. While Castiel gets ready, Dean texts Benny to arrange for him to come over to talk about the case around lunch. Dean then double checks the locks on the front door, and turns off all the lights except the one by the bed. He fluffs the pillows and turns down the covers. But when he looks at the bed he worries that it might seem like too much of a come-on, so he walks around the bed rearranging the blankets to try to make them seem less...obvious. Dean realizes then that he’s basically pacing, and sits down on the bed with a huff.

He jerks up guiltily when Castiel walks in, oversized sweatpants pooling slightly around his feet. When Castiel just looks at him, uncertain, Dean steps close to him and wraps his hands around Castiel’s hips. When Castiel sways closer, Dean leans down and just presses his forehead into the crook of Castiel’s neck for a moment. When he steps back and looks down, Castiel’s eyes are closed, his breathing deep and calm.

“Alright?” Dean asks. Castiel nods in response.

“Good.” Dean pulls gently on Castiel’s hips, leading him towards the side of the bed furthest away from the door. After he’s got Castiel under the covers and tucked in, Dean turns off the bedroom lights and gets into the other side of the bed. He purposely doesn’t reach for Castiel, choosing to give him a bit of space. Instead, Dean lies on his side, propping his head up on his hand and looking across the bed at Castiel in the dim early morning light.

“So man, moment of truth.” Dean pauses to wait for Castiel to look up at him. “You snore?”

Castiel wrinkles his forehead. “No, Dean, I do not snore.”

“Are you sure? You look like a snorer to me.”

Castiel gives him a withering stare, and snorts softly. “What exactly does a snorer look like?”

“I dunno. Messy hair, wearing sweatpants.” Dean smirks fondly at Castiel.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You do realize you are describing yourself as well, right?”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe I’m a terrible snorer. You’ll have to tell me in the morning.”

“Great...now you tell me.” Castiel sounds put upon, but Dean can see that his face is still relaxed, open.

“Ready for sleep?” When Castiel nods, Dean reaches across the bed and places his hand, palm down, in the center of Castiel’s chest. Even though he’s been trying to remain calm for Castiel, Dean has been tense and worried all night. Being an acting alpha is an important responsibility, especially for an omega as such a fragile state as Castiel, and Dean wants to be worthy of it. Between struggling to remember everything the doctor yelled at him the hospital hallway and trying not to panic when Cas unexpectedly showed up naked in his kitchen, it’s been a really long night and now Dean isn’t sure how to turn off his brain. But as he feels Castiel’s chest rise and fall slowly under the weight of his hand, and Dean can feel his own breath evening out and his heart rate slowing.

Dean’s eyelids grow heavy. “If you need anything in the night, anything at all, you wake me up, ok.”

“I can take care of myself,” Castiel grumbles under his breath.

“I know..but just for tonight, let me help.”


	6. Chapter 5

Dean feels amazing when he wakes up. Even though the alarm on his phone goes off less than four hours after he finally shuts his eyes, his head is clear and his muscles feel loose and fresh. Castiel sleeps through the alarm without blinking. He turned on his side sometime during the night and stretched out his arm towards Dean - fingers soft and curved gently, only a few inches from Dean’s arm.

Castiel’s awake by the time Dean gets out of the shower. He’s commandeered a spare legal pad and is sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his elbows propped up on the coffee table, scribbling steadily. Castiel doesn’t seem to notice when Dean enters the room.

“You know you can sit on the couch, right?”

The scratching sound of Castiel’s writing doesn’t slow down. “I am aware of how couches work, Dean.”

“Well, you’ll have to pardon my confusion. Just not used to people sitting on my floor, is all.”

“I like to be able to spread things out on the table.”

Dean just shrugs, and Castiel immediately slips back into his work. It takes Dean several attempts to get his attention to ask if he wants breakfast. Eventually Castiel shakes his head no without looking up, although he smiles gratefully when Dean puts a cup of strong black coffee in front of him.

Dean pulls out his own paperwork and sprawls on the couch behind him. Castiel doesn’t give up his place in front of the coffee table, and Dean tightens his lips when he realizes that Castiel is carefully avoiding brushing against him. Still, it’s a quiet and pleasant morning until Dean’s phone buzzes.

Benny’s spent the morning collecting evidence at Castiel’s apartment, and is calling to ask whether there’s anything he should bring over. Castiel looks up sharply when Dean relays the question, and takes Dean’s phone into the kitchen for a quick and murmured conversation. 

Benny is laughing when Castiel hands back the phone. “Of course, you would fall for a guy who’s got a bug-out bag hidden in his floorboards.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, tell me another one, brother. Do you want me to search his bag before I bring it over?”

Dean pauses at that, and looks down at Castiel. “Do you have anything in this bag that you could use to kill me in my sleep?”

Castiel doesn’t bother looking up. “No, Dean, I thought it unnecessary to put anything I could use to protect myself in the bag I keep in case I’m fleeing for my life.”

Dean barely suppresses an eyeroll. “Anything in that bag that you are planning on using to kill me?”

“There’s nothing in that bag that I’m planning to use to kill you.”

“Anything illegal? Narcotics, suppressants, stolen goods?”

Castiel pauses. “There’s nothing in that bag that I’m planning to use to kill you.”

Dean runs his fingers through his hair. “No need to search it, Benny. Just bring it over as-is. Thanks, man.” Dean pressed end and gently tosses the phone onto a nearby armchair.

Castiel is staring at Dean, his head tilted but his face blank. “You’re not searching my bag?”

Dean looks at him seriously, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning towards where Castiel is sitting on the floor. “I’m going to trust you on this, Cas, but I’m going to need you to trust me too. I know you were on some sort of heavy-duty suppressants or blockers or something before the thing at the warehouse, because it took them days at the hospital to figure out that you were an omega. Guessing they were probably the illegal kind, since you didn’t have an alpha to sign for them.”

Castiel says nothing, but his eyes dropping to the floor is the only confirmation Dean needs.

“Look, Cas, I really don’t care if you uses suppressants. But there’s no way of knowing what’s in the street version. I seen people get seriously fucked up using those. We can call the doctor today, and you can take whatever you want as long as she approves it. Seriously. But you have to promise you won’t take the illegal stuff. They could kill you if you’re not careful.” 

“I’m always careful, Dean. I know what I’m doing.”

Dean sighs. “Just promise me, please.”

“Ok. Promise.”

Dean nods. “Good.” 

He picks his paperwork back up, and they resume their quiet morning. But this time Dean slides his hand into Castiel’s messy hair, cupping the back of his head and gently scratching his scalp. Castiel freezes at first, but after a few minutes he slowly relaxes and leans into Dean’s hand. Dean smiles to himself, and turns his attention back to the witness statement he’s reviewing.

 

Benny is Dean’s favorite partner ever for two reasons. The first is that he’s legitimately a great cop - calm in an emergency, great with witnesses, and a force to be reckoned with in tight situations.

The second is that he brings food every time he shows up to anything.

This time, it’s fancy donuts from the hipster place up the street from Benny’s apartment in Venice. Dean would make fun of him, but they are really good. Whoever thought to put bacon and bourbon in a donut knew what they were doing.

Castiel migrates to the armchair in the corner as soon as Benny arrives, curling in on himself slightly as he continues to scribble notes and picks at a honey and lavender cruller. Dean sees him watching them out of the corner of his eye as he and Benny set up on the couch, pulling out their notes and an ancient tape recorder. Dean’s stomach drops slightly as he realizes he can’t smell Cas at all any more, the faint honey-tinged lemon scent that had lingered around him all morning dissipating.

Benny clicks on the tape recorder, and then looks at Dean. It takes a moment for Dean to realize that Benny’s expecting him to start asking questions, and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Can we start from the beginning, Castiel?”

Castiel closes his eyes briefly. “From the bus?”

“Yeah. Start from the first time you saw the girl.”

Castiel opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. “She was sitting two rows ahead of me, across the aisle. I could see her face when she sat down, and I knew something wasn’t right.”

“How did you know?”

“She was having trouble focusing her eyes, she kept looking up as if she was trying to remember something, and turning around as if she was trying to hear something. I recognized these as characteristic behaviors of someone who had been under an extended period of alpha compulsion.”

Benny interjects, forehead wrinkled. “You’re that familiar with the signs of excessive alpha compulsion?”

“I can read.” Castiel stares unflinchingly at Benny.

“Cas…” Dean starts with a warning tone.

Castiel slides his eyes away from Benny and bites his lower lip. “I’ve seen people under the influence of long term alpha compulsion before. It’s relatively easy to identify if you know what you’re looking for.”

Dean decides not to press for more. “Did you notice anything else about her?”

“There were red marks on her wrists and she winced every time the bus hit a pothole. I became convinced that she was in serious trouble.”

Dean nods. “So, you followed her to the warehouse?”

“Yes. I was able to see in through the windows, and I could tell that there were people there in trouble. So, I called 911, and then went into the warehouse.” Castiel’s hands shake slightly.

“Why did you go inside?”

“I didn’t think that whoever was holding them would take it well once the cops showed up. They were in cages, you know?” He pauses until Dean nods. “They would have been sitting ducks if someone started shooting in there. But when I tried to get the first guy out, he just started screaming. I didn’t even have time to try to run before the guys with the guns showed up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Benny lean forward. “Did you see how many of them there were?” he asks.

“Four that I saw. All alphas, all armed. They weren’t happy to see me.”

Benny smiles gently. “We got that. Do you think you could recognize them if you saw them again?”

Castiel pauses. “The one who smashed my phone, at least. And the one who held down my arms. I thought they were going to…” He exhales, and tries again. “I didn’t think I’d be in a position to describe them later, but I was trying to tell the 911 operator what they looked like. I made sure to get a good look at their faces.”

Dean jots down a quick note to himself. “We can bring by some pictures of suspects for you to look through. See if anyone jumps out at you.”

Castiel nods. “I can certainly try.”

Dean presses his lips together, trying to think of the best way to ask. After an uncomfortably long moment, Benny steps in, his voice even and gentle. “Thanks, Castiel. We’ve had a really hard time figuring out what was going on at the warehouse, and we were wondering if you could help us with that too.”

Castiel jumps in. “That was the first time I ever went to the warehouse. I didn’t know...I wasn’t a part of…”

Benny smiles reassuringly. “Didn’t think you were. But maybe you’ve seen something else like that before. Before you came to LA.”

Castiel stares at the coffee table, tracing his fingers along the edge of the armchair he’s sitting in. “I didn’t see enough at the warehouse to know. I was only there for a few moments, and it happened so fast….” 

Benny nods in agreement. “We could take you back there, maybe? Walk around with you, see if anything looks familiar.”

“I have to go back?” Dean can suddenly scent him again, but the sweet smell he’d been savoring all morning has been replaced by something aggressive and sour. When Castiel’s breathing becomes erratic, Dean can’t stay on the couch any longer. He lifts Castiel out of his seat slightly, sliding under him and pulling him onto his lap. Castiel resists for a moment, before pressing his face into Dean’s neck and breathing deeply.

Dean keeps his voice even and calm. “You don’t have to go alone, y’know? Benny and I’ll go too. There won’t be anyone else there. It’ll just be us, and we can walk around and see if anything looks familiar to you.”

Castiel sighs. “It’s not about the warehouse. I left home for a reason. I don’t want to see those things again.”

“I know, Cas, and I’m so sorry. But we need to see if this is something you can help us with.”

Castiel eventually nods, his face still pressed into Dean’s neck. Dean looks up at Benny, who is already staring at him with a slightly amused look on his face. “We can set something up for early next week?” Benny offers.

“Sounds good to me. Thanks, man.”

Benny and Dean spend the rest of the afternoon comparing witness statements to forensic results, trying to fit pieces into a whole. Castiel lingers on Dean’s lap until his scent mellows and his breathing calms. He then slides to the floor in front of Dean, rests his head on the inside of Dean’s knee, and resumes scribbling in his notebook. Castiel doesn’t look up once, even as Dean and Benny trade friendly jokes in between arguments about how the case fits together.

Benny packs up his notes right before dinnertime, and Dean offers to walk him out. When they reach his car, Benny pauses with his hand on the door handle and looks at Dean teasingly.

“So, I guess I don’t need to ask you how your new living situation is going.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “You know this is only temporary, right?”

Benny smirks a bit. “I don’t know. He seems pretty comfortable with you.”

“That’s the whole point. I’m supposed to be making him comfortable around people again.”

“Yeah, but you seem to be getting comfortable with him too. Remember, he wasn’t the only one living alone before you two started playing house.”

Dean can’t think of a good response before Benny starts to drive away, so he settles for flashing his middle finger to Benny’s tail-lights.

 

Castiel remains lost in his work for hours longer, his concentration broken only when Dean puts a plate of reheated pizza in front of him. He blinks rapidly and looks around, slightly confused. 

“Where’d Benny go?”

Dean runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair fondly. “He had to go home. Eat your dinner.”

But when Castiel goes to resume his work after dinner, Dean stops him. “Nope. No more of that. All work and no play makes Cas a dull boy.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose and looks up at Dean. “You think I’m dull?”

Dean laughs. “No man. It’s from a movie. The Shining?” When Castiel shakes his head slightly, Dean continues. “C’mon, man. Jack Nicholson? Red Rum? Here’s Johnny!?”

“I don’t know who Johnny is. Is he any relation to this Jack?”

Rather than respond, Dean fetches a DVD from the shelf next to the tv and then starts fiddling with the equipment. When the screen lights up blue, he turns off the living room lights and grabs the remote. He then flops down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him.

Castiel rolls his eyes, but sits on the other end of the couch.

“No...not like that.” Dean rolls over onto his back and pulls Castiel down until he is his lying on his side, pressed between the back of the couch and Dean’s body. As the opening scenes play, Dean tangles their legs together and rests one hand against the back of Castiel’s neck, guiding the smaller man’s head to rest on his shoulder. He hears Castiel inhale deeply, and looks down.

“Everything good there?”

Even in the low light, he can see Castiel blush slightly. “I think I can scent you. Just a bit.”

Dean tries to keep his reaction off his face. “Are you ok with that?”

Castiel bites his lip. “I don’t know yet. It’s been a long time since I was able to scent anyone. I’m not really sure what to do with it.”

Dean nods gently, trying not to jostle too much. “It’s ok not to be sure. But it’s a good sign, y’know? Means you’re getting healthier.”

“I guess.” Castiel still sounds concerned.

Dean rubs small circles on the back of Castiel’s neck. “Don’t need to worry about it tonight, Cas.” A few minutes pass as Castiel relaxes into Dean, bringing one arm up to rest on his chest.

“Smells good though,” Castiel mumbles as his eyelids start to drift down.

Dean just smiles and pulls a blanket down from the back of the couch, snuggling in.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI - I’ve blocked out the rest of the story. Right now, I think it’s going to be around 22 chapters (20 main chapters from Dean’s perspective, and a prologue/epilogue written from Cas’ persepective) and about 50-60K words.
> 
> Also, thanks so much for the comments! I’ve really enjoyed them, and I’m so glad you like it!!!
> 
>  
> 
> ***

The next day is a sweet and hazy blur.  It’s Saturday, and Dean indulges every alpha instinct he has by keeping them both safe and snug inside, Castiel within arm’s reach.  Dean can see the worst symptoms of his social isolation starting to fade just a bit. His voice softens slightly, staying deep but losing its raw edge.  Although Dean is careful to introduce physical contact slowly to avoid triggering a panic attack, he’s gratified to see small changes in Castiel.

Eventually, though, Dean has to let the rest of the world back in.  When Castiel starts talking about wanting to make a private phone call on Sunday afternoon, Dean takes the hint and heads out to buy groceries.  He picks up ingredients for his world-famous burgers, finding himself growing nostalgic for the weekly barbeque his dad used to make. Impulsively, he calls Sam and Jess and asks them to dinner.  Sam sounds surprised at the sudden invitation, but they make plans to come over around 7.

Dean lugs the groceries up the stairs, smiling when he opens the door to find Castiel sitting on the floor, scribbling away.  Dean puts the groceries away and then joins Castiel in the living room, settling in on the couch. He spends threads his fingers through Castiel’s messy hair, tilting his head back gently.

Castiel blinks up at him, slowly and a bit sleepily.  “How’s it going?”

“Good, good.  Sam and Jess are gonna come over for dinner tonight.  Sound good to you?” He waits for Castiel to nod, head shifting in his hand.  “Come up here?”

Castiel stands, but when he goes to sit on the couch, Dean grabs his hips and guides him to straddle his lap.  “Like this...wanna talk to you for a second.”

Castiel is breathing deeper and quicker, but his scent stays sweet.  When he settles into Dean’s lap, Dean runs his hands up his back over his thin tee shirt.  “I just wanted to check in, Cas. How’s it going?”

Castiel fiddles with the buttons on Dean’s flannel shirt.  Dean cups his jaw and tilts his head up to meet his eyes. “Good...good.  I think I had a new idea for my thesis today.”

Dean smiles at him fondly.  “That’s great. I’m so happy to hear that.”  Dean leans down to nuzzle Castiel’s neck, breathing in deeply.  He sucks in a quick breath has he realizes the omega’s scent has shifted, becoming warmer and spicier.  “How’s the rest of it, though? Are you feeling ok?”

Castiel’s eyes are wide and slightly dazed.  He has to clear his throat twice before answering.  “Yeah. It’s just...I don’t know…”

“Don’t know what?”  Dean slides the hand on Castiel’s hip under his shirt and up his bare back, skin-to-skin.

Castiel sighs and looks to the ceiling.  “I guess I’m just not used to having another person around like this.  Trying to understand someone else’s face...their smell…”

Dean smirks at Castiel.  “Thought you liked the way I smelled.”

Castiel blushes furiously, a series of expressions passing over his face too quickly for Dean to interpret.  He tries to push back off of Dean’s lap, but Dean wraps one arm around his lower back to hold him in place. Castiel only manages to rock back on Dean’s lap, grinding hard on his crotch.  The friction feels incredible after days of chaste cuddling, and Dean can feel himself hardening. He knows that Castiel can feel it too, as his eyes go shocked and wide and his nostrils flare

Dean holds still, determined to let Castiel figure out what he wants to happen next.  But Castiel simply freezes on Dean’s lap, his breathing becoming fast and erratic. After several long seconds pass, Dean takes pity on him and rubs his thumb over the pulse fluttering in his neck.  “Look at it this way...you’re just following the doctor’s orders, right? However, it makes you feel, well...that’s just how you feel. No reason to be ashamed of it. And we don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want.”

Castiel looks puzzled, and tilts his head, studying Dean’s face.  “I know…I just don’t know how...”

Dean smiles.  “S’okay. We can go nice and slow...Not gonna rush you.”  He gently guides Castiel’s head down slightly, tilting his head and leaning up to meet him.

Before their lips touch, the doorbell buzzes.

Dean groans and lets his head fall back against the couch.  Castiel shifts off his lap and onto the couch, his face flushed and his eyes lowered.  Dean takes a moment to remind himself that he still loves Sam and Jess, no matter how bad their timing is, and tries to straighten out his shirt as he goes to answer the door.

Dean grins when he opens the door, hugging Sam roughly and kissing Jess on the cheek.  Sam looks at Dean pointedly as he enters the apartment, sniffing loudly and smirking. Jess elbows him in the side and discretely opens a window as she heads into the living room.  She drops down on the couch next to Cas and introduces herself.

Dean heads to the kitchen to start the burgers, and Sam follows close behind.  Cracking a beer, he leans back against the counter and studies Dean carefully.

“What?”  Dean isn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart.

“Nothing.  Nothing at all.”  Sam shrugs, pressing his lips together.  “This seems to be going well.”

Dean groans.  “Not you too. You of all people should know its not like that.”

Sam smirks in response.  “Not saying that it’s like anything.  Just saying that when we got here the whole apartment smelled like the back of the Impala after you took Rhonda Hurley to prom.”

“Gross, dude.”  Dean pauses for a second, weighing how helpful Sam is likely to be.  “He’s just so damaged. I’m trying to be careful with him, go slow, but…” Dean breaks off, sighing.  “I can never figure out how he’s going to react. Can’t figure out what he needs.”

Sam tilts his head at Dean.

“What?”  Dean says, quickly lowering his eyes to the burgers starting to sizzle on the griddle.

“You know what, I’m not going to tell you.  You can figure it out on your own this time.”

  
  


Dean and Castiel do the dishes together after Sam and Jess leave.  They keep bumping into each other in the tiny kitchen, knocking elbows and brushing hands as they stack plates in the dishwasher and rinse out glasses.  Finally, after the fourth time Castiel accidentally steps on Dean’s toes, Dean grabs him by the shoulders and gently guides him towards the living room with instructions to pick out a movie.  When Dean returns after a few more minutes of tidying up the kitchen, he laughs to see Castiel carefully observing the DVD shelf.

“Seriously, it’s not a test.  Just pick something that looks good.”

“What exactly is an Indiana Jones?  Is it a person or a place?”

Dean walks up behind Castiel, resting his hands on the omega’s hips and scenting the back of his neck.  He smiles when he gets a sweet hit of honey and lemon. Castiel twists his head back and looks up at Dean, a slightly puzzled look on his face.  Dean has to pull his eyes away from Castiel’s bitten lips before he can answer. “Well, he’s a professor of archeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it, obtainer of rare antiquities.  You’ll like him - he’s a geek like you.”

“I’m not a geek, I’m a nerd.  There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Go settle in on the couch; I’ll start the movie.”  By the time Dean is done fiddling with the DVD player, Castiel is curled up against one arm of the couch, feet tucked up under him.  Dean sighs internally as he sees Castiel has made their usual nighttime cuddling impossible, but decides to pick his battles. He sprawls on the opposite end of the couch instead, stretching his legs out.

Dean soon finds that he really enjoys watching movies with Castiel when they are both awake.  They barely make it through the first scene of _Raiders_ before Castiel is complaining about research ethics and the impossibility of getting IRB approval to remove golden idols from indigenous societies, although they both agree that the amount of alcohol consumed seems accurate.  When Castiel gets up to get a drink halfway through the movie, Dean takes the opportunity to shift and stretch until he’s lying fully across the couch.

When Castiel gets back, he rolls his eyes fondly at Dean.  “Alphas always take up so much room. Never leaving any space for anyone else.”

“I’m sure we can find somewhere for you to fit.”  Dean moves onto his side and pats the space next to him.  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall off.”

Castiel mumbles something under his breath but lies down, tucking himself in next to Dean.  Dean wraps his arm around him, brushing his hand up underneath Castiel’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his lower abdomen.  At first, Castiel freezes, but Dean just murmurs to him patiently, waiting for him to relax. Eventually Castiel is pliant in his arms, and Dean starts tracing small circles on his skin with his fingertips.

After a few minutes, Dean speaks gently.  “S’okay. Remember what the doctor said?  Skin-on-skin is good for you right now.  Not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, I promise.”

Castiel says nothing and just relaxes further, his breath growing steady and his scent thickening.  Dean spreads his fingers wide and presses his palm flat against smooth skin, murmuring against Castiel’s neck.  “You’re doing so good, Cas. I’m so proud of you - I know this isn’t easy. We can stop if you need...”

But instead of backing down, Castiel huffs a breath of air and turns around in Dean’s arms.  He hooks a leg around Dean’s hips, pulling them closer. “I’m not a baby, you know. You don’t need to be this gentle.”

“For future reference, telling someone you’re not a baby doesn’t exactly make you sound mature.  And, what, you like it rough?”

“You know what I mean.  You’re treating me like you’re expecting me to have a freak out at any moment.  If I was going to have a breakdown, Dean, I would have had it well before now.”

Dean struggles a bit to keep his tone patient, and slides one hand up Castiel’s back.  “Not treating you like a child. Just like someone who needs a little bit of extra attention right now.”

“I do remember what the doctor said.  Extensive skin-to-skin contact, preferably with an alpha.  Is this your idea of extensive?” Castiel plants his hands against Dean’s shoulders and pushes back, rolling with him until Dean is lying flat on his back with Castiel straddling his hips.

Dean’s eyes go wide and his pulse quickens.  He can feel his cock hardening in his pants from the weight of the omega on top of him and the pressure of thighs pressing in on his hips.  As the sweet, wild smell of honey fills his lungs, Dean inhales deeper and fights the urge to thrust. When Castiel rocks down slightly, Dean grabs him by the hips and pushes up, holding him still.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

Castiel’s hair is wild and his pupils are blown wide, his normally blue eyes now almost entirely black.  He grabs the hem of his black tee shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing a tight stomach with a smattering of still-healing bruises.  “I would think that it’s fairly obvious.”

Dean shakes his head to clear it.  “We’ve talked about this, remember?  You don’t have to do this.”

Castiel buries his head in Dean’s neck, leaning down to press their torsos together.  Dean slides his hands from Castiel’s hips up his bare back to clasp his shoulders, pulling him back slightly so that he can look him in the face.  But Castiel simply looks down at him helplessly with unfocused eyes, moaning almost under his breath. “But you smell so good. All apples and firewood.  Just need a little more.”

Dean shuts his eyes tight and tries to count to ten slowly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.  He can feel Castiel’s lips moving softly against his neck, their hips rocking slowly together as Castiel shifts to find a better position.  When Dean finally opens his eyes, Castiel is looking down at him with a hand planted on either side of his head.

“Well, what are you waiting for, alpha?”

Dean can’t hold back any more.  He grabs Castiel by the hips and pushes hard, flipping him over and onto his back.  Dean is up a heartbeat later, grabbing the back of Castiel’s knees and pulling him closer until their hips grind together, legs sprawled on either side of Dean’s torso.  He strips off his tee shirt before shifting his weight forward and crawling on top of Castiel, wrapping the omega’s legs around his waist.

This time, Dean presses down against Castiel without hesitation.  He’s achingly hard and, when he rocks down, he can tell that he’s not the only one.  He props himself up on his elbows and smiles down at the man underneath him, rolling his hips deliberately.

Castiel bites his lip and gasps in response.  He looks so undone, so surprised at their change in position that Dan can’t help himself.  He leans down and kisses him firmly, sliding a hand up from Castiel’s bicep to cup his jaw, tilting their heads to open up the kiss further.

Right away, Dean can tell that something is wrong.  Castiel freezes for a moment as their lips press together, and startles when Dean slides his tongue into his mouth.  There’s no rhythm to his movements, and his hands have fallen from Dean’s shoulder to grab the couch cushion underneath them.  Dean pauses and pulls back for a moment, inhaling deeply. His forehead wrinkles when he realizes that the sweet omega smell is gone.

“We shouldn’t be doing this...you’re not ready for it yet.”

Castiel is flushed and panting, but Dean honestly can’t tell whether its from fear or arousal.  He blinks slowly as he looks up at Dean, a confused look spreading across his face. “What do you mean?”

Dean sighs and pushes himself further away.  He takes a deep breath, and tries to will his now-throbbing erection to subside.  “C’mon, Cas. You’re clearly not comfortable with this.” He pauses, deliberately keeping his voice calm and non-judgmental.  “Is this the first time you’ve ever been kissed?”

Dean knows he’s correct the second Castiel’s eyes slide to the side.  When Castiel speaks, his voice is harsh and monotone, the slight softness that had emerged over the weekend entirely gone.

“You don’t get to decide whether or not I’m ready.”

Dean eases himself off of Castiel, but continues to hold him close.  “If we’re going to do this, then we both have to think you’re ready. I don’t want to hurt you, baby.  I’m trying to be good to you.”

Dean leans down to nuzzle his neck, but Castiel pushes him back and stands up, grabbing his shirt from the floor.  “I didn’t ask you to be good to me.”

Dean sits up, running his fingers through his hair.  “Okay. Let’s just talk about this.” He starts looking around for his shirt.

Castiel rolls his eyes.  “I don’t have anything to say to people who don’t let me make my own choices.”  He stomps into the next room, slamming the bathroom door behind him before Dean has a chance to respond.

_Well, fuck._ Dean thinks to himself.   _That could have gone better._


	8. Chapter 7

Dean sleeps on the couch that night, his face buried in a cushion that still smells like him and Castiel. He wakes up the next morning with the sun in his eyes, a bad crick in his neck, and a relentless hard on grinding into the sofa. He manages to make it into the bathroom without running into Castiel, and turns the cold water on full-blast. He steps under the spray and closes his eyes, willing his erection to go down.

A short and unsatisfying time later, Dean wraps a towel around his waist and heads to the bedroom. The bed has been slept in and the sheets are still warm, but Castiel is nowhere to be seen. It crosses Dean’s mind that Castiel is probably still a flight risk, but he relaxes when he hears familiar light footsteps in the next room. He pulls on dress pants and an undershirt, tossing a long-sleeve button down over it without bothering to do up the buttons, and heads to the kitchen.

Castiel is sitting at the table, his back painfully straight. He’s leafing through a slim, hardcover book, occasionally pausing to take notes in his ever-present legal pad. He doesn’t look up when Dean walks in, but the sound of pencil scratching stops for a moment. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean pours himself a cup and heads to the table, pausing slightly to run his hand over the back of the other man’s neck before sitting down.

Castiel huffs a breath in response, and glares across the table. “You don’t have to keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“The whole … touching thing.” Castiel looks across the table at him, turning the pencil over nervously in his hand.

Dean stares back over the top of his coffee mug. “Yes, I do. You know that.”

“I was doing just fine before all of this, you know. I had my own life, my own apartment … everything was just fine.”

When Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself, he can tell that Castiel’s scent has become lemony-sharp. He exhales slowly, and tries to keep his voice patient and calm. “Cas, the doctor said you had one of the worst cases of social isolation disorder she’d ever seen. You weren’t doing fine.”

Castiel shakes his head dismissively. “Everyone always overreacts when an omega is living on their own. Just remember … I’m not here because I needed help. I’m here helping you.” The hand holding his pencil rocks back and forth, tapping it loudly against the table.

Dean puts down his coffee cup and looks at Castiel carefully. “Absolutely, and we really appreciate your willingness to work with us on this. But … look, you’re here now. This might not be something you wanted, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help you out too. And, besides, I thought you were feeling better.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Okay, so then what is the point? ‘Cause I gotta say, man, I don’t get it. It seemed like things were going really well for a little while there, but then … I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything. I’m just trying to keep you healthy and safe, you know? Make sure you’ve got everything you need.”

Castiel stands up suddenly, his chair falling backwards. For a split moment, it occurs to Dean that he’s never seen this much emotion on Castiel’s face before, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the thought before Castiel starts yelling. “I never asked for any of that, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

Dean has always prided himself on his ability to control his voice and scent with omega witnesses, to help them stay calm by keeping calm himself. But the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet and his back still aches from his night on the couch. It isn’t even 8 am, and already his temples are throbbing. He pushes back from the table and snaps at Castiel, barely keeping his voice below a yell. “No, you can’t. You absolutely can’t. And you don’t have to try any more, but you need to stop fighting me.”

Castiel chuckles, dryly. An almost satisfied look crosses his face. “Typical. You’re not the first alpha to tell me that, you know.”

Dean takes a deep breath, and wills his scent to calm down. He sits down at the table again, pressing his palms flat on the slightly worn wood. “I’m sure I’m not. But I’m not trying to control you, I promise. Just get you healthy - that’s all.”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re trying to do. Just what you end up doing.”

Dean sighs and glances at the clock on the oven. He’s going to be late to work if he doesn’t leave soon. “I gotta get going. We can talk through this more when I get home tonight. Just … promise me you’ll be here when I get back.”

Castiel hesitates for a moment, but eventually nods before turning back to his work. Dean walks close to him on his way to put his coffee mug in the sink, and has to stifle the urge to run his fingers through dark and messy hair. Instead, he throws a blazer on over his open button-down and stuffs a tie in his pocket before heading out the door.

 

Dean buttons his shirt up while sitting in stop-and-go traffic on the 10 and pulls on his tie at a red light. By the time he gets to the office, he figures he looks relatively put together, but Benny takes one look at him and pushes a box of leftover donuts in his direction. Dean grabs one, hoping to quiet the dull pain in his stomach with sugar and saturated fat. He spends the morning putting together a stack of pictures of anyone associated with Alastair’s gang, for Castiel to look through to see if he can identify anyone from the warehouse, while Benny returns phone calls and sets up witness interviews.

When lunch rolls around, Dean and Benny compare notes over food truck burritos. Dean has a thick binder of photos ready for Castiel, and Benny’s managed to arrange interviews with a bunch of people tangentially connected to the warehouse, including the man who owns every building on that block. Based on the nose-clearing hot pepper flare in Benny’s scent and creole-tinged murmuring about a “british bastard”, Dean offers to make that visit. It’ll be better to avoid any unpleasantness with the man who most likely has surveillance videos of crime scene and, besides, Dean’s fairly sure he owes Benny for something or other.

And so that’s how Dean finds himself fighting eastbound traffic on the 10 late in the afternoon, driving back from an embarrassingly large and unfathomably expensive condo overlooking the Pacific in Santa Monica. Whatever small favors he might have owed Benny this morning, he’s fairly sure they’re more than even now. Crowley, the short, bearded owner of the warehouse (and, as he managed to mention a dozen or so times, also the owner of numerous commercial properties in Los Angeles and Orange County), was obnoxious, oily, and overly familiar. He managed to raise every suspicious hackle that Dean has during the first five minutes of their conversation, and it was all downhill from there. But Dean left with a thumb drive containing weeks of surveillance video, including three different angles directly on the warehouse, so he considers it time well spent.

Still, as Dean tries to entertain himself by tapping along to the radio while sitting in traffic, he feels the knot that has taken up residence in his stomach tighten further. He has the same aggressive impulses as any alpha, but he’s always hated fighting with the people closest to him: Sammy, Benny, his mother - and, apparently now Castiel. He keeps thinking about the look on Castiel’s face as they yelled at each other across the table. He looked unhappy and a bit nervous - almost scared - but there was something comfortable in his expression that Dean can’t quite put his finger on yet. He turns it over in his head as he hums along to Creedence Clearwater Revival, one hand unconsciously trying to rub the tension out of his abdomen. When Dean sees the turn off for the 405 North, he merges right without thinking about it. He heads towards Westwood, where the smartest person he knows should be getting off work soon.

The Center for Gender and Equality Clinic is located on the edge of UCLA’s campus and, like most of Los Angeles at this point, across the street from a Starbucks. Dean parks the Impala, and stops off to purchase a vanilla and caramel latte before buzzing at the main door of the Clinic. As an organization that works to protect omega rights, CGE’s security procedures are unsurprisingly no joke. The woman at the front desk sits behind a reinforced glass divider and does not appear at all impressed by an alpha dropping by unannounced with a gift for one of their omega student workers. Dean tries flashing his badge and explaining that she’s his brother’s girlfriend - and consequently basically his sister - but he gets nowhere until Jess herself opens the steel door on the other side of the small waiting room. She waves at the woman working the front desk who, only somewhat mollified, hands Dean a visitor’s badge with a suspicious look on her face. Once Dean is inside the main body of the Clinic, Jess guides him to a meeting room with a “gender neutral” label on the front door.

Dean sits down, and slides the latte across the table to Jess. She sips deeply and sighs with her eyes closed, before opening them and fixing Dean with a direct look. After a long moment, Dean decides the best approach is to just bite the bullet. “So, I may have managed to screw something up.”

Jess laughs shortly. “Already? Sam’s going to owe me some money …”

Dean rolls his eyes, and starts to recount every interaction he’s had with Castiel over the last few days. He tries to avoid certain details with careful euphemisms but Jess is having none of it, asking careful and detailed questions until she understands exactly what happened. By the end of the conversation, Dean is blushing and emotionally drained, the knot in his stomach practically throbbing. However, Jess is nodding her head, looking remarkably unphased by Dean’s confession.

She tilts her head at him sympathetically. “So first off, not everything that happens with Castiel is your fault. He had a life before he met you, and he’s clearly working through some things - and, honestly, probably will be for awhile. Also, mood swings like that are to be expected right now. The social isolation disorder would have completely shut down any emotions he was having for some time and now, all of a sudden, he’s feeling things again. That’s got to be weird, and it might take him a little while to figure out how to handle it.”

Dean has to interrupt at that. “So, what, I should tell him he’s not really angry at me, just hormonal?”

“Oh god, no, don’t be an idiot. Besides, he probably is really mad at you. You’re just not the only person he’s mad at.”

Dean sighs. “Great.” He watches Jess’ forehead wrinkle and her eyes flick down to where he is rubbing his stomach, and he forces his hand to still.

“Look at it this way - we learn what is expected of us by watching the people around us. You learned how to be an alpha by watching your dad and Bobby, and Sam mentions all the time how we wanted to be just like you when he was growing up.” It’s an off-handed remark, but it leaves Dean with a warm, fuzzy feeling. “Whoever he was watching when he was growing up, they clearly left him with some pretty fucked up ideas of what an omega should be like.”

“Any ideas about what those might be?”

Jess shrugs wryly. “There’s so much out there, it’s tough to tell what specific strain of bullshit he might have been exposed to. Some people treat omegas like delicate and pure flowers; others expect them to be sexually voracious whores.” She pauses for a moment, looking down at her hands. “Where I grew up, people acted like omegas were all sluts who just couldn’t help themselves. So after my first heat, it became really hard to convince people that when I said no, I meant it.”

It’s Dean’s turn to nod sympathetically. Jess looks up and smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She clears her throat, and continues. “In Castiel’s case, it sounds like he’s worried about maintaining his autonomy. It’s tough to tell exactly why, but it’s something you have to talk to him about. Explain the assumptions that you are making, and ask him to explain his assumptions.”

“Yeah, talking didn’t go so well last time. Is this why he doesn’t trust me?”

“Oh, this is just the tip of the iceberg of why he doesn’t trust you. You’ve got a huge amount of power over his life right now, Dean. Expecting him to trust you on top of that is a big ask.”

Guilt twists tightly in Dean’s gut. “I yelled at him, you know. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

Jess pats his hand. “You’re only human. Don’t beat yourself up over it too much, just do better next time.” Jess pauses for a moment, studying Dean’s face carefully. “You’ve felt off all day, right? Your stomach hurts?”

Dean startles for a moment. “Yeah…”

“It’s a physiological reaction to your fight with Castiel. You’ve become attuned to his pheromones, and when he was upset this morning his system went all haywire. Your pancreas has been pumping out all sorts of hormones all day, trying to shift your scent to soothe him.”

Dean blanches at her casual announcement. “It’s not….I didn’t mean to….That’s not what this is supposed to be, you know? I’m just meant to be a temporary guardian.”

Jess nods. “I know, but I think it’s an important thing to tell him. He knows how vulnerable he is in this arrangement. So, talk about what you guys can do to make him less vulnerable. And let him see how you’re vulnerable too.”

Dean bites his lip, consideringly. Jess stands up, and pats him on the cheek fondly. “At any rate, no one can say you aren’t trying.” She smirks up at him when he stands and leans in for a hug.

“Thanks, Jess. You know you’re entirely too good for my brother, right?”

She smiles. “Yeah, but he’s smart enough to know it and behave accordingly. See you at dinner this week?”

Dean nods, and heads back out to once again do battle with rush hour traffic.

 

By the time Dean manages to make it home, it’s almost 8. Castiel is still sitting at the kitchen table where Dean left him, spine almost painfully rigid. He’s flipping through the same notebook and scribbling on the same legal pad, and Dean wonders for a minute if he’s moved at all since he left that morning. The only thing that seems to have changed is that Castiel’s eyes are now rimmed with red, and his scent has disappeared entirely, completely faded from the whole apartment. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think he was the only one home. The ache in his stomach intensifies.

Dean fixes a pair of turkey sandwiches, spreading mayo thickly over soft bread. He puts one on a plate in front of Castiel, who doesn’t look up, although Dean can see the tight muscles in his back shift when he approaches. Dean sits down on the opposite side of the table.

“Cas?” He pauses, waiting for the sound of pencil scratching to break off. “Can we try this again, please?”

Castiel puts down his pencil at that, folding his hands and looking up at Dean. “Try what, exactly?”

“The whole talking thing. Just...not here. I thought you might like to get out of the house. Wanna go for a drive?”

Castiel nods, and they finish their sandwiches quickly before heading out to the car. Even at this hour, the 405 is still clogged with traffic, but once they get past the Getty things start opening up. Dean waits until they’re moving easily through the hills and Castiel has relaxed into the seat, fingers tangled in the wind rushing by the open window, before he tries to speak.

“So, maybe we should try to figure out how this is going to work, for both of us.” Dean steals a glance across the car before continuing. “When we agreed that I would be your acting alpha, that you would come live with me, what did you think was going to happen?”

In the passing headlights, Dean can see Castiel’s jaw is set. “I thought you saw an omega in trouble, and assumed that you knew what was best for me. And then, well...everyone knows what alphas do to their omegas.”

Dean nods. “So, yeah...you being an omega is part of it. But, Cas, I’d be worried about anyone who was that alone.”

Castiel snorts. “As far as I can tell, you were living alone when I move in. Didn’t seem to worry you too much.”

“Yeah, I was living alone. But I had my parents, and my brother … hell, even Benny. They always made sure that I wasn’t on my own too much, that I had enough contact to keep healthy. They look after me, and I help look after them.”

Castiel shakes his head a bit. “It’s not like that where I’m from. Alphas are supposed to discipline and care for their omegas, and omegas are supposed to … comfort them.”

Realization dawns on Dean. “So when I told you to stop fighting me and let me take care of you...”

“I figured that was your way of reminding me that you make the decisions, and that I should shut up and stop arguing about it.” Castiel’s drawn in on himself in the passenger seat, pressed against the door.

Dean exhales slowly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, and that wasn’t at all what I was trying to say. I’m not trying to control you, or make you do things you don’t want to do. I’m just trying to make sure that there’s a space for you where you’re safe, where you have what you need, so you have room to live your life.”

Castiel doesn’t release his grip on the passenger door, so Dean decides to try a different tack. “Did you know my mom spent 20 years as an assistant DA? She’s an omega, and she was absolutely terrifying in the courtroom. Went to law school when Sam was in kindergarden, but back then omegas weren’t allowed to study in the library - something about the smell being a distraction for alphas. Anyway, my dad used to pick us up after school, and take us with him to hang out at the station or check up on leads or whatever so the house would be quiet when my mom was trying to study. That was his way of making sure that she had what she needed.”

Castiel looks amused, but slightly skeptical. “Your alpha father was in charge of you and your brother?”

Dean laughs. “Oh, yeah, don’t go making assumptions about alphas being bad caregivers. He and his partner Bobby used to drive me and Sam around for hours while they were working. I actually think there were a couple of years where I spent more time in the back of this car than I did at home.” Dean pauses while Castiel giggles for a moment, and then grows serious. “Anyway, that’s the kind of alpha I want to be. It’s not just about making sure that the people around me are safe, and it’s sure as shit not about controlling them. When I say I want to take care of you, I’m not trying to make decisions for you - I’m trying to make sure you have what you need to make decisions for yourself.

“And what do you expect from me?” Castiel’s voice sounds cautious, but Dean can just make out the faintest hint of honey and lemon from the passenger seat.

“I don’t know yet, and to be honest, I’m not sure you know yet what you want me to expect. And that’s okay. We don’t have to figure all of this out in one night.”

Castiel nods, but even in the dim light his face looks conflicted. Dean reaches out and cups a hand around the back of his neck. He exhales a sigh of relief when Castiel leans into it instead of pulling away, letting his head fall back slightly.

Dean turn the car around when they reach Santa Clarita, wrinkling his nose at the faint scent of horses in the air. After merging back onto the highway heading south, he takes a deep breath. “So, there’s something else we need to talk about.”

The muscles in the back of Castiel’s neck tense up, and Dean runs his thumb over them soothingly. “Things have been getting close...intimate...quicker than I expected. Is that something you’re ok with?”

Castiel thinks for a long moment. Dean is so tempted to say anything to fill up the silence, but he bites his lip and forces himself to give Castiel time. “Yeah, I think … I think so. I mean, I like it, but I’ve never done it before so it also makes me really nervous.” Dean nods, and waits for Castiel to continue. “Where I grew up, omegas were supposed to be kept pure until they were mated with an alpha. I don’t really have any experience.”

Dean smiles a bit. “That’s ok. No one knows what they are doing at first. It’s just, sometimes you seem really into it, and sometimes you don’t seem into it at all. I haven’t really been able to figure out whether you want it or not, that’s all.”

Castiel ducks his head. “Sometimes, when there’s something I want to do that also makes me really nervous, I just kinda jump in and then try to decide later if I liked it.”

Dean suppresses a frustrated groan. “That’s fine for a rollercoaster or something, Cas, but I don’t have sex with anyone who isn’t completely sure they want it. When we do anything, I want it to be because you are absolutely aching for it, because you can’t live another moment without my skin on your skin. Not because you think you might be okay with it.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide and, when he finally speaks, his voice is obviously flustered. “I don’t think it works like that for omegas, Dean. We just don’t have the same sexual instincts as alphas.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we’re going to put in a call to Jess and set you up with some sex ed classes or something. Not sure who taught you about the birds and the bees, but I’m fairly sure they left some things out.”

“I’m going to seriously regret having you as my acting alpha if you start assigning me homework.”

“Yeah, but you’re such a good boy you’re going to do it for me anyway.” Dean turns his hand to cup Castiel’s jaw, but pulls back a bit when he feels the skin heat up under his fingertips. “I’m sorry, do you want me to stop saying things like that?”

Castiel has to clear his throat before he can talk. “No, no, it’s okay. Actually, I kinda like it.” Dean can see his blush deepening even in the dim light and decides not to push it.

After a few minutes of driving silently in the dark, Dean speaks up again. “So, do you have any questions?”

“What about potential physical effects? After this is over, I mean…”

“Tell me about it. I’ve had a stomach ache all day.” 

“Are you okay?” Castiel’s eyebrows draw up in concern.

“Oh, yeah, it’s much better now. According to Jess, it was just my pancreas trying to cheer you up.” Castiel raises an eyebrow, but Dean keeps going. “At any rate, I don’t think there’s a lot we can to about it, actually. We can keep an eye on it and, if we do have to split up for some reason, we can either step you down slowly or transition you to another alpha so you don’t go through pining sickness.”

Castiel seems mollified by that, and tucks himself firmly into Dean’s side. The rest of the knot in Dean’s stomach finally untangles itself, and he spends the rest of the car ride home tracing his fingers along Castiel’s arm, enjoying the scent of honey thick in the air.


	9. Chapter 8

It’s almost 11 by the time Dean pulls into his parking garage. Castiel is a soft, unmoving weight cradled under his arm. Dean presses his head against the back of his seat, his alpha hindbrain finally calm and stable after spinning relentlessly all day. For a wild moment, Dean considers carrying the sleeping omega up two flights of stairs to bed. Before he has time to seriously entertain the notion, Castiel stirs and blinks up at him sleepily. 

“Hey you.”

Castiel inhales slowly, nostrils flaring slightly. “Hey. When did we get home?”

“Just now. Ready for bed?” At Castiel’s nod, Dean leads the way upstairs. Castiel follows him silently through the front door and to the bedroom, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. He yields without discussion when Dean runs warm fingertips up his sides to lift the faded, slightly-too-large Black Sabbath tee shirt over his head. Dean unbuttons his own shirt and tosses it over a chair in the corner, followed immediately by his belt and pants. He touches a fingertip to the underside of Castiel’s chin, waiting for him to look up and nod before removing his faded blue jeans. Castiel doesn’t speak until Dean has arranged them both in bed, Dean lying on his back with Castiel half-covering him, on his stomach with his face pressed firmly into Dean’s neck.

Castiel breathes, slowly and deeply. “I can’t believe I’m tired already. I took a three hour nap this afternoon.”

“Doc said this might happen. Your body’s trying to heal, plus it’s all worn out from trying to manage all the new scents and stuff.”

Castiel murmurs agreement against his neck. “And I could barely sleep last night. Bed felt all weird without you in it.”

Dean smiles, tracing meaningless patterns across Castiel’s back. “Yeah?”

“I even missed your snoring.”

Dean snorts. “Like you’re one to talk. I woke up three times the first night you were here, wondering what was with the construction.”

Castiel presses himself up with palm of his hands until he is hovering over Dean, face-to-face. “Would you rather I sleep somewhere else?”

Dean presses his lips together, pretending to think about it. “Nah. Think I like you here.”

Castiel rolls his eyes fondly. Dean opens his mouth to say something else, but shuts it again when he notices Castiel’s eyes catch on his lips. Castiel stares at them for a long moment, then slowly lowers himself down, pressing their closed lips together in a chaste kiss.

Dean lets him linger, lips moving softly but not deepening the kiss. When Castiel pulls back after a few endless moments and looks down uncertainly, Dean reaches up and cups his jaw, rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone. “Nice and slow, ok Cas?”

Castiel nods. “Nothing I don’t want.”

Dean smiles. “Absolutely. You’re so good for me, baby. No need to rush.”

Castiel bites his lower lip, until Dean brushes his thumb down to pull the pink flesh out from between teeth. Castiel sighs and leans down again, pressing against him more eagerly this time. When Castiel makes an impatient noise in the back of this throat, Dean turns his head slightly to align them more closely, then gently runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of Castiel’s lips. When Castiel’s scent shifts towards spicy-honey and he relaxes open with a sigh, Dean takes the opportunity to kiss him fully, deeply.

Dean smiles as Castiel slowly adjusts and leans into the rhythm of their kiss. His initially clumsy movements become deliberate and careful, learning when to seek Dean out and when to let him lead. Dean keeps his hands just above the waistband of Castiel’s boxers, reassuring but restrained. When Castiel’s breath starts to quicken and his hips move, Dean tugs on his waist gently, encouraging him to move closer. Castiel takes the hint eagerly, climbing fully on top of Dean, straddling his hips and bracing his hands just above Dean’s shoulders.

Dean quickly stifles a gasp as he feels Castiel’s hard length slide against his own. A hot, tingling flash pulses up his spine, and he realizes suddenly that this will all be over much faster than he wants if he can’t slow things down. He slides his hands from Castiel’s waist to his back to his shoulders, slowly following the contours of muscle and bone. Castiel’s hips stutter eagerly but irregularly, the friction too uneven to be anything but a tease.

When Castiel sighs impatiently, Dean decides it’s time to check in. He rests a hand against Castiel’s neck and tilts his head back, until their eyes meet. “Still with me here, Cas?”

Castiel shakes his head and makes a needy noise in the back of his throat. Not sure how to interpret that, Dean braces one arm against Castiel’s lower back to hold him in place and sits up, moving back to prop himself up with pillows against the headboard. Castiel shows no sign of wanting to leave Dean’s lap, instead curling up and resting his head against his chest. Dean just waits.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Castiel’s voice is slightly muffled against Dean’s skin.

Dean rubs his sides, soothingly. “What was it supposed to be like?”

“I wasn’t expecting...It’s not…” Castiel takes a deep breath and tries again. “Omegas aren’t supposed to like this kind of thing. I didn’t think it would feel like...this.”

“Like what...this?” Dean slides his hands down to Castiel’s hips and holds him still while he thrusts up, hard. Castiel gasps loudly and then moans, nodding against Dean’s chest.

“I don’t know how to handle feeling like this. I don’t know what to do.” When he looks up at Dean, his eyes are wide and slightly nervous.

Dean runs his fingers through messy brown hair. “That’s okay...we can figure it out together. What do you need right now?”

Castiel pauses for second, considering. “I’m not sure. Can you help me?”

“Of course, baby. Anytime you want.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s waist and rolls them both over, until Castiel is flat on his back with Dean on his knees leaning over him. Dean runs his hands up Castiel’s sides, tracing his fingers along his ribs then higher to ghost over his nipples. Castiel’s eyes go wide at the contact, and his hands fly up to grab the slats of the headboard. Dean smirks at this reaction, but takes the opportunity to trail a line of kisses from the inside of Castiel’s wrist, to his forearm, to his shoulder. He shifts back on his knees as he moves lower, pressing his lips along the ridge and hollow of his collarbone, until Dean stills with his head resting against Castiel’s clavicle, breathing warm air against his nipple.

Castiel’s head is moving restlessly on the pillow, eyes shut tight. When he arches his back in a silent plea, Dean opens his lips around one nipple, gently teasing it with his tongue. Castiel’s response is nothing more than incoherent noise. Dean takes advantage of his distraction to gently ease Castiel’s damp boxer shorts down his legs. He traces rough palms from his calves, up the inside of his thighs, to just below the crease of his hips. Castiel’s eyes are open and unseeing, and he looks so overwhelmed that Dean resists the temptation to slide on top of him again.

Instead, he gently rolls Castiel over to his side and, pausing a moment to shed his own boxer shorts, snuggles behind, nesting knees to knees and chest to back. Dean wraps one arm around Castiel’s shoulders, holding him close, and presses the palm of his other hand flat against his stomach. Dean tucks his face into Castiel’s neck and breathes deep, feeling his cock harden further at the sweet scent of eager and willing omega.

Dean hums against his neck when Castiel whimpers and tries to press back against him. “You smell so sweet for me, baby. It’ll all be okay...gonna make you feel so good.”

“Talk is cheap, alpha.” Castiel’s voice is raw and deep and desperate. 

Dean chuckles, and move his hand lower to brush over the head of Castiel’s cock. Castiel’s hips jerk in response, and Dean groans as his own cock is pressed firmly against Castiel’s ass. He can feel the slick dripping from Castiel’s hole, and instinctively grinds against the heat and wetness. When Castiel gasps and freezes, Dean slides his hand lower and grasps Castiel’s cock fully, rubbing his thumb along the underside of the head.

“Not gonna, sweetheart...not tonight. Just gonna play a bit...make it feel good for both of us.” Castiel’s answering nod is tentative, but he quickly relaxes in Dean’s arms.

It takes a few moments, but they quickly find a satisfying rhythm. Dean steadily runs his hand along Castiel’s length, fist clenched loosely. Castiel grinds his hips up to meet each stroke, rocking back to press his ass against Dean’s cock. Dean ruts helplessly between Castiel’s ass cheeks, his movements eased by the wet slick leaking from his hole. It’s not long before Castiel is gasping for air, his head tilted back to rest against Dean’s shoulder and his hands gripping the arm braced across his chest.

The scent of honey and apples is thick in the air, and Dean buries his face in the soft, sweet spot on Castiel’s neck behind his ear. He can feel his instincts pressing him to bite down, but instead moves his head lower to tease the back of Castiel’s shoulder with tongue and teeth. An unexpectedly sharp thrust from Castiel drives his hips hard against Dean’s cock and Dean moans loudly, helplessly, and bites down hard on the muscle at the back of Castiel’s shoulder. The sudden flash of pain seems to be too much for Castiel, and seconds later he’s crying out sharply, coming into Dean’s palm.

Dean eases him through it, slowing his pace but continuing to rub his cock until Castiel’s erratic breathing steadies and his trembling stops. Dean then braces his hand against Castiel’s hip, holding him still as he starts to thrust harder and faster, his cock easily gliding now through the slick that has gathered at Castiel’s hole. Dean is breathing heavy, rutting helplessly against Castiel’s ass. His mind whites out at slick pressure on his cock and the feeling of a satisfied, familiar body pressed against him. It could be a couple of moments - it could be a couple of minutes - but Dean is soon pressing Castiel tightly against the mattress as he grinds against him and lets go.

 

Dean sleeps solidly through the night and wakes up feeling slightly sticky, but absolutely incredible. He’s still wrapped around Castiel, face inches from the back of his neck, the scent of apples and honey clinging to the air. The alpha part of his brain is purring with contentment: from providing protection and pleasure, and receiving trust and satisfaction.

He gets up slightly before his alarm goes off, and showers while the coffee is brewing. When Castiel still hasn’t budged by the time Dean is dressed and ready to go, he slips back into the bedroom with a cup of coffee and sits on the edge of the bed, gently drags his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Dean smiles when Castiel blinks his eyes open, slowly and sleepily.

“Hey there. Just wanted to chat a bit before I head into work. Brought you coffee.” Dean chuckles a bit as Castiel inhales deeply and sits up, reaching immediately for the mug. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

Castiel drinks deeply and sighs, turning his face into Dean’s palm and thinking for a moment. “Good, actually...really good. Was it okay for you, last night?”

Dean can see the insecurity flash across his face, and leans down to nuzzle his neck. “So good, baby.” He smiles when he can smell Castiel’s scent flash spicy honey for just a second. When he pulls back and looks down, Castiel is blushing slightly. “I gotta go to work now. Sam’s going to come by to discuss a couple of things with you, and then he’s going to take you to meet us at the warehouse after lunch. Today’s the day we’re doing the walkthrough.”

Castiel sighs apprehensively. “I remember.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to go back, but it’ll be okay. The place has been completely cleared...no one there besides us. And I’ll be next to you the entire time. Benny, too...he may look like a teddy bear, but trust me, nothing will happen to you when he’s there. And even Sammy’s not that terrible in a tight situation...just don’t tell him I said that.” Castiel chuckles slightly at that, and Dean kisses his forehead on his way out the door.

Dean floats through most of the morning. Benny shoots him a slightly questioning look when he shows up with a fresh box of pastries from the little Greek market down the street, and smirks when Dean flushes slightly in response. They cross-check witness statements, and start to scan through surveillance footage of the warehouse from the thumb drive. It’s mind-numbing work: lots of fast-forwarding, and parsing through the few minutes of interesting video to try and find the best moment to screenshot someone’s face for later follow up. But it makes the morning last quickly enough, and soon Benny and Dean are in the Impala heading for the warehouse, with a quick stop off at In-and-Out burger on the way.

Dean and Benny lean against the Impala eating french fries, sunglasses on in the California sun, while they wait for Sam and Castiel. After a morning full of knowing glances, Dean finally has had enough when he catches Benny smirking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he demands.

Benny’s face quickly slips from sly to overly innocent. “Nothing, brother. Nothing at all. Just think it’s funny. How the mighty have fallen.”

Dean sighs and looks to the sky. “Really? Are you going to start this now?”

“Not starting nothing. All I’m saying is that I’ve watched your flings try to turn it into something serious with you for months on end, and no luck. Meanwhile, you shack up with this guy for a long weekend, and you’re suddenly acting like you’ve been married 50 years. Nice to see you settle down, finally.” A serious expression passes over Benny’s face when Dean shoots him a dirty look. “No...really. We’re both getting a bit old to be running around.”

Dean turns towards Benny questioningly, shifting his weight so he’s leaning against the Impala with his side rather than his back. “And what about you, man? See anyone you’d be willing to slow down for?”

Dean’s eyebrows fly up when Benny looks away awkwardly. Before he has a chance to push further, Sam’s obnoxiously shiny silver Prius pulls into the alley. Dean shoots Benny a look that says he’ll be taking this up again later, and grins as he walks over to meet Sam and Castiel. He does his best to ignore the knowing look Sam and Benny exchange when he hugs Castiel before greeting Sam, lingering slightly with his arms around him and his face pressed to his neck.

They all agree to start by retracing Castiel’s steps on the day he last visited the warehouse. Castiel looks outwardly calm, but Dean can tell by his flickering eyes and jittery hands that he’s much more nervous than he lets on. Castiel points everything he noticed out to them - the cages where the omegas were kept, the medical table that had the partial remains of a body that they still haven’t managed to identify, and the door that the alphas ran through before they started beating him.

It’s helpful, although it’s all information that they’ve heard before, just pieced together more clearly. But then they walk Castiel into the room on the other side of the door. This room has been one of the most confusing parts of the whole case. Dean’s seen enough crimes against Omegas that he’s horrified but not surprised when he hears about kidnappings. They’ve had no trouble figuring out that Alastair’s gang had been taking omegas, but Dean and Benny still don’t have a clue what they were doing with them, even after months of investigation. And there’s a knot in Dean’s gut that tells him this room is at the center of it.

It’s a small space, especially compared to the main storage space adjacent. It looks like something in between a science lab and a church, with scribbled writings that could be chemical equations or could be religious texts in a language they can’t identify yet. Whoever was writing them filled up the whiteboard that ran across the entire length of a wall and just kept writing, leaving symbols scrawled across the remaining walls and on every other flat surface in the room, including the back of the door and the underside of the table. But the weirdest part is that someone had started to paint over one of the walls in dark red, getting about halfway through before leaving a jagged edge and breaking off into a series of handprints and one large phrase, obviously painted on with fingers. The paint was still wet when the crime scene techs arrived.

Dean keeps his eyes trained on Castiel’s face when they pass through the doorway, and so he doesn’t miss the look of dumbfounded shock that washes over him. Castiel stands in the middle of the room and spins slowly, his breathing becoming sharped and panic. Dean is about to reach for him, to comfort him, when Benny puts his hand on his arm and shakes his head. A few long moments pass, and Castiel turns to look Dean directly in the eyes.

“I know what this is.” His voice breaks halfway through the statement. “I know exactly what this is.”


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies in advance...there was supposed to be a little bit of a drawing in this (which makes something much more obvious when you see it), but I can’t figure out how to add it in. I put in a text approximation for now, and I’ll update if and when I figure it out.
> 
> Also, thank you all so much for reading this!!! It’s been really exciting to see people actually reading stuff I wrote (on purpose! voluntarily!), and I really appreciate it.

Dean paces in the observation room. There’s a large glass window peeking into the interview room, and he can see Sam and Castiel talking on the other side. Castiel seems to have calmed down a bit, but it’s starting to get late and there are dark smudges below his eyes. Dean has spent so much time in this room, watching interrogations and interviews, but seeing Castiel - his Cas - on the other side of the glass puts a dull throb in his chest.

After they left the warehouse, Dean spent the rest of the afternoon trying to calm Castiel down. His shaky admission that he could identify the writing on the walls quickly segwayed into a full-fledged panic attack. As soon as Castiel’s breath starting coming in uneven gasps, Dean shrugged off Benny’s hand and bunded Castiel out of there immediately. Castiel clung to him in the parking lot for almost an hour, his face buried in Dean’s neck while they leaned against the Impala. Dean’s stomach tied itself up in knots, which only smoothed themselves out when Castiel started seeming somewhat like himself again. Dean could hear Benny and Sam murmuring quietly from their position near the rear bumper of Sam’s car, but they keep their distance.

Finally, Dean was able to deposit Castiel in the passenger seat and made a whirling motion with his hand, signaling their departure for the station. As they drove over, Dean could feel his mind racing as he struggled to keep his composure. Benny rode with Sam, and apparently they had time to plan, because they separated Dean and Castiel the moment they arrived at the station.

While Sam lead Castiel to the interview room, muttering something about “consulting with my client”, Benny pulled Dean into the back corner of the bullpen between the broken vending machines and the filing cabinets that nobody uses. Dean expected a lecture, but instead Benny just gave him a sympathetic look, cradling the back of Dean’s head with his hand and resting their foreheads together. 

That kind of comfort feels so different to Dean, coming from another alpha rather than an omega, but Benny’s been his friend for so long that he feels more like family than a potential rival. After a moment - when Dean’s head had stopped throbbing and his pulse had slowed - Benny released him. 

“Ready, brother?”

Dean bit his lip and nodded.

And so, Dean now finds himself waiting for Sam to finish up his consultation with Castiel. He stops pacing when it draws a dirty look from Benny, instead pressing his forehead against the glass, willing himself to get closer. It feels like they’ve been in there for an hour, but the clock has ticked through fewer than 10 minutes. Finally, Sam looks up, straight at the glass that he sees as a mirror, and nods.

Castiel exhales heavily when Dean walks into the room, and Dean gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Even though his face feels off, it must look convincing enough, because when Castiel peers up at Dean through his eyelashes he stops biting his lip and his forehead smoothes out. Dean sits across from Castiel, leaving Benny to take the seat opposite Sam. Castiel is picking at an almost healed scab on the back of his hand - one of the remaining souvenirs from his first trip to warehouse. Dean reaches out and rests his hand on the table, and Castiel weaves their fingers together.

Benny pulls out a digital recorder and a legal pad, clicking his pen once. “OK, Castiel...whenever you’re ready.”

When he speaks, Castiel’s voice is raw and rumbling, but not entirely monotone. Dean suddenly realizes that he’s healing, and the vague notion that Castiel might move on and leave him one day seems painfully real. He’s barely able to push the thought out of his head and follow Castiel’s halting explanation.

 

“What you have to understand is that my father was the best storyteller. He used to create whole worlds, and he had a way of making you feel like it was real. When I was little, we lived far out in the woods away from everyone and, after a while, the stories he told us meant more than the world outside our compound. We became convinced he could tell the future.” Castiel chuckles wryly. “So when he told us we were going to act a certain way or do certain things, that’s what we did. He said my older brother Lucifer was going to be rebellious, and within a week Luc had turned from everyone’s golden boy to an out-of-control hell-raiser. And then, of course, when stuff like that happened, we became even more convinced that Dad could tell the future.”

Sam nods knowingly. “Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Exactly.” Castiel’s eyes linger on the table, where Dean’s hand is wrapped gently around his own. “So when he told us that the world was going to end, we believed him...of course we believed him. There was a virus coming, the Croatoan virus. Dad said that it had wiped out civilizations before, and that it was going to wipe us out too. But we didn’t have to be afraid, because he knew how to protect us.”

Benny’s voice is sympathetic. “How?”

“He said that the virus was coming because we were at a crossroads and we needed to decide whether we wanted to maintain the boundary between alphas and omegas. That’s where the name comes from, you know….from whether alphas and omegas would be on the same side, or whether they would be divided from each other. On one side was creation; on the other side was the end.”

Castiel pauses, and traces out a design in the dust on the table. 

 

Cr o|a / o|a n

 

Benny copies it onto his pad and turns it around to show Castiel, who nods.

“But Dad told us that he knew how to save us. He said that we needed to combine alphas and omegas...give alphas parts of omegas to make them strong. So that they wouldn’t feel pain, and they could protect us.”

Sam has a look of dawning horror on his face. “How were you supposed to do that?”

“Dad said the answer was written in omega DNA. He used to call it the language of the angels. But because we are imperfect - human not angel - each of us only contains a little bit of the solution. So it would take information from a lot of omegas before Dad could figure out how to perfect alphas.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Castiel looks up at Dean. “The writing on the walls...it’s written in the language of the angels. I haven’t seen it since I left home.”

Dean hears Benny inhale sharply, and realizes he’s holding his breath. Benny leans forward with an intent look on his face. “Can you read it?”

Castiel tips a shoulder. “Probably, eventually. It’s more a system of chemical and mathematical equations than an actual language. My dad thought that once he solved it, he’d be able to figure out what...parts...of the omegas needed to be given to the alphas to make them strong.”

Dean’s blood runs cold, and he turns to Benny. “The body parts found at the warehouse…”

Benny nods and starts flipping through pages to look back at his notes. After a few moments, he looks back at Dean with a grim look on his face. “All omega.”

When Dean turns back towards Castiel, he can see that Sam has gone pale. “Cas, where is your dad now?”

“Dad left. He just disappeared one night. Michael and Lucifer - my two oldest brothers - were fighting all the time. I think they each were trying to convince my dad to do something, but he could never pick between them. But one night...it was so loud, they were always so loud. And they sent me to bed, and I hid under the covers, but I could still hear them yelling. When I came down to breakfast the next day, Dad and Lucifer were both gone.” Even years later and miles away, Castiel’s face is wracked with grief. “Michael told us that Dad had cast Lucifer out, and then once he made Luc leave, he was so sad that he needed to go somewhere for a while. To get his head back together. And then that was that. Neither of them ever came back.”

Dean can smell the sorrow on Castiel, and rubs his thumb against the thin skin on the inside of the other man’s wrist. “What happened next?”

“After Dad left, no one knew what to do. He told us so much - about everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen - and he expected so much of us, but he never taught us how to think for ourselves. We had an uncle, too, but he was barely around and he was completely useless when he was there. Raphael, my other brother, was so angry at Dad, at Lucifer, at everyone...but Michael was so calm. Like he’d been expecting this. They kept trying to do my father’s work, to decode the language of the angels. But they could never get it to work.”

Sam snorts. “It’s religious psuedo-science. I can’t imagine why it didn’t work.”

Dean shoots him a warning look, but Castiel just shrugs wryly. “They thought it was because the omegas they were working with weren’t pure enough. I was 14 at the time, and I had just had my first heat. They started taking...steps...to make sure that I stayed pure.”

“What kind of steps?” Benny asks. His scent has taken on the artificial undertone that signals he’s struggling to keep it calm.

Castiel’s eyes take on a far away look. “They kept me away from any other alphas. Michael was travelling more and more by then - he kept saying he was looking for a way to make sure alphas everywhere would take the formula once we had developed it - so he was gone a lot. But Raphael and I stopped leaving the compound all together. And Raphael, he started watching me all the time, to make sure I couldn’t do anything that would...sully myself. And he starting binding my hands into mittens when I slept at night, to eliminate any temptation.”

Dean feels the blood drain out of his face, but Sam is nodding like he’s heard this before. Castiel pauses, clearing his throat before continuing. “The testing came next. They started taking samples of my hair, my blood, my skin. I asked them why they were doing with it, but they wouldn’t tell me. Then Raphael stopped referring to me as Castiel, and kept calling me “the omega” instead. That’s how I knew I had to get out.”

Dean stares at Castiel intently. When it becomes obvious that Dean isn’t going to ask a question, Benny follows up. “Do you know where they are now?”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s been years. I can tell you where the compound used to be, but they were getting ready to move when I ran away. That was the only way I was able to escape. 

Benny nods, then follows up quickly. “Who else might have known about the language of the angels?”

“No one else should have known the language of the angels. It was family business only.”

“Have you ever heard of Alastair?” 

An apprehensive look passes over Castiel’s face. “Never heard of him.”

Benny nods thoughtfully, and then he stands up and claps Dean on the back as he heads out the door. Dean nods and squeezes Castiel’s hand, then leans across the table to nuzzle the side of his neck briefly. “We’re going to let Sam tell you anything else he thinks you need to know right now. I’ll be right outside, ok? As soon as you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”

Castiel nods, but he’s unnaturally pale as Dean leaves the room. As soon as he closes the door, Dean leans against the cinder block wall next to the door frame and exhales. Benny looks at him, considering his next words carefully.

“You know there’s a good chance that someone in that warehouse knew who he was, right?”

Dean nods, eyes squeezed shut. “And even if they didn’t, they took his ID. They definitely know who he is by now.”

Benny sighs. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, he’s not who I’m worried about.”

Benny bobs his head once, decisively. “Don’t worry...we’ll just have to find them first.”

 

Less than an hour later, Castiel is slumping against Dean as he unlocks their front door. Despite his obvious distress, Dean can’t help but notice how much healthier Castiel is than he was the first time Dean brought him home. His scent is thin and unhappy, but still steady. Castiel didn’t even freeze when Sam - giant, clumsy puppy that he is - hugs him goodbye.

As soon as Dean relocks the door, with them on the inside, he feels jaw unclench and his shoulders lower involuntarily. He’s been hyperaware, his skin crawling all the way home with a deep, biological need to protect Castiel - his packmate, his omega. Dean leans against the locked door and lets Castiel cling to him, rubbing the back of his neck gently. Castiel just buries his head into Dean’s neck and breathes deep.

After a few long moments, Dean nudges Castiel’s temple with his jaw and tries to put enough space between them that he can look at his face. Castiel just grunts in response and clings harder, pressing against him. Dean sighs, and scratches the back of his neck gently. “Not going anywhere, promise. Just thought you might like to go to sleep. You must be dead on your feet.”

Castiel shakes his head, hard, and then tilts his head slightly to lean it against Dean’s shoulder. “Can’t sleep now. I’ll get nightmares.”

Dean sighs and wraps his hands around Castiel’s hips, maneuvering him gently towards the couch. “You know what’ll fix that.”

“No...what?”

“Scooby Doo.”

Castiel looks up at him and wrinkles his nose. Dean takes the opportunity to press their foreheads together, enjoying Castiel’s warming scent. “C’mon, man. Everyone likes Scooby Doo.”

“I’m not a child, Dean. You don’t need to watch cartoons with me when I’m scared at night.”

Dean takes the opportunity to slip his hand under Castiel’s shirt, pressing his palm flat against the small of his back. “Trust me. After last night I’m well aware you’re not a child.”

Castiel blushes hard at that. “Alright then...good.”

Dean smirks, letting his hand drift lower to trail his fingers just below the waistband of Castiel’s pants. “Know what adults do when they can’t sleep?”

Castiel shakes his head, but his scent is warming up. Dean presses his hands gently against Castiel’s shoulders, encouraging him to sit on the couch. When Castiel settles in, Dean drags one hand from the crest of his shoulder to the hinge of his jaw, tilting Castiel’s head back. He steps in between Castiel’s knees and sees his nostrils flare. Castiel’s eyes fall for a brief second to rest on the bulge in Dean’s pants, inches from his face. But when he looks up again, Dean just smiles down at him and then drops to kneel in between Castiel’s knees.

Their heads are at almost the same height in this position, and Dean takes advantage by pulling Castiel close by the back of his neck and kissing him deeply. Castiel opens up immediately and eagerly, his lips yielding as Dean presses in. Dean sighs and leans closer, breaking away from Castiel’s lips to trail a line of kisses to the side of his neck. Dean inhales deeply, enjoying the scent of eager, wanting omega. He resists the urge to bite and instead sucks hard enough to leave a bruise, sliding his hands back under Castiel’s shirt to trace his fingertips across the muted ridges of his ribs.

When Dean looks up, Castiel is breathing quickly, eyes closed and head is resting against the back of the couch. Dean bites Castiel’s lower lip gently, and slides his hands up, catching Castiel’s shirt as he goes. He backs off for just a moment to slide it over his head, and then his mouth finds Castiel’s collarbone, following gentle bites with slow kisses.

Castiel’s hands are shaking, and he keeps shifting back and forth between running them through Dean’s hair and gripping the edge of the couch cushion. When Dan leans lower to run his tongue along Castiel’s nipple and then blow cool air on the newly wet skin, Castiel breaks off any effort to keep calm and grabs Dean’s shoulders, hiking one leg up to wrap around his torso. Dean replicates his efforts on the other nipple and slides his hands lower to rest on the front of Castiel’s belt.

Castiel just huffs an impatient sigh when Dean backs off for a moment to look him in the face, questioningly. “God, yes. Please. Get on with it.”

Dean clucks his tongue. “Now, is that how you ask for things nicely?”

“You’ll note I did say please.” Castiel bites his lower lip.

Dean undoes the belt buckle, but just toys with the button underneath. “Yeah...but I don’t know that you mean it. Try again.”

Castiel jumps when Dean decides to motivate him by grinding the heel of his hand against the bulge in the front of Castiel’s jeans. When Castiel moans in response, Dean can feel the deep, wrecked sound go straight to his own cock. His pants only get tighter when Castiel starts begging in earnest, a series of broken pleas and pleases falling from his lips.

Dean chuckles darkly. “That’s so much better, baby. Now, tell me what you want.”

Castiel groans, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “I need you to touch me.” He gasps when Dean slides the button free and lowers the zipper to rest his hand on the warm, flushed skin right above Castiel’s cock. “Oh, god...that’s so good. Please, more. I need more.”

“Don’t worry...I got you.” Dean slides his hand just a bit lower to finally grip Castiel’s cock. He slides his hand up and down once, twice, running his thumb along the tip with each pass. When Castiel sighs with relief and twitches his hips forward to give Dean more room, Dean smirks before leaning down, taking just the head of Castiel’s cock in his mouth.

Castiel sits up suddenly, his eyes going wide and one of his hands flying up to bury itself in Dean’s hair. Dean has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the almost inhuman sound that comes out of Castiel when he swirls his tongue around, dipping a bit lower to trace the sensitive spot just below the head. As Castiel leans back against the couch again, panting, Dean starts to bob up and down, rubbing his tongue along the underside of the ridge everytime he pulls back.

Dean looks up at Castiel through his eyelashes, watching the emotions flicker across his face. When Castiel raises one hand to his mouth and bites down on the pad of flesh below his thumb, muffling his groans, Dean pulls back, letting go of Castiel’s cock with a wet pop.

“No, no, no...none of that now. Let me hear you.” Dean takes the opportunity to blow gently on wet, delicate skin.

Castiel whimpers helplessly, but lets his hand fall to the couch. Dean leans down to take his cock back in his mouth, moving faster this time, fisting his hand tightly around the part he can’t reach and sucking hard each time he pulls back. Castiel hitches one leg up onto Dean’s shoulder as he starts to thrust eagerly, and Dean presses down on Castiel’s stomach gently, steadying his motions as his hips start to stutter. Castiel is panting hard, his moans turning sharp and almost shocked as he comes, back arching and head pressed back to the couch.

Dean keeps sucking as Castiel comes down, his muscles softening and his face going slack, until Castiel’s soft moans start to carry a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat. Dean pushes himself up and tries to snuggle next to Castiel on the couch, but Castiel just makes a needy sound and presses against him. “What is it, baby?”

Castiel tries to climb onto Dean’s lap, but his loosened pants hinder his motions. “You too, please. Wanna make it good for you too.”

Dean rubs his back in small, soothing circles. “That was so good for me...don’t worry about it.”

But Castiel has a stubborn set to his face that Dean knows well by now. So when Castiel reaches for Dean’s belt, Dean stays his hand but guides him to kneel up on the couch, crossing his arms and resting them on the back of the seat. Castiel’s jeans fall to just above his knees, keeping his legs pressed tightly together. Dean stands behind him, gripping his hips and running the tip of his nose along the back of his neck.

Dean’s alpha has been running wild all night. It’s kicked up every time Castiel started trembling with fear, and started banging against the back of Dean’s head when his face was buried in Castiel’s neck with his hands on bare skin. But now, with the scent of satisfied omega thick in the air, Dean can’t hold back any more. He puts one hand on Castiel’s back between his shoulder blades and presses down, bending him over further, and shifts his own knees up onto the couch, pushing Castiel’s thighs closer together. Dean unbuttons his pants with his free hand, and then rubs the firm muscle of Castiel’s ass, before pressing between his cheeks to coat his hand in slick. Castiel groans, and rests his forehead on his folded arms.

Dean slicks his cock quickly, squeezing the base hard when he realizes how close he already is to coming. He guides his cock forward, sliding it into the tight gap between the top of Castiel’s muscular thighs just below his ass. Dean slides one hand to grip the back of Castiel’s neck and the other to his hip to hold him in place, growling in the back of this throat as he feels his hard cock grind against the inside of Castiel’s tightly clenched thighs.

Dean takes him just like that, hard and fast. He suppresses the urge to tilt his hips higher and seek out Castiel’s tight wet hole, instead savoring the rough friction of barely-slick skin. He’s been on edge for what feels like hours now, and makes no attempt to go slow. He comes quickly, even faster than he thought he would, barely managing to pull out in time to come against Castiel’s bare skin instead of the couch.

Castiel twists his neck and tilts his head, kissing Dean deeply. Dean is still panting as he kisses him back, feeling his legs start to shake. Dean carefully stands up, pulling Castiel up after him and holding him closely, soft and sweet. Castiel’s pupils are blown wide but his scent is open, calm and sleepy. Dean leads him to bed with a quick detour to the bathroom to clean up, turning back the covers and gently tucking him in before climbing into the opposite side of the bed, closest to the door.

“Sleepy yet?” Castiel doesn’t respond, but instead just presses back tightly against him. “Wake me up if you have any nightmares, ok?”

Castiel nods, just barely, and Dean can feel his muscles going limp as he sinks into the bed. Dean presses his own face against the back of Castiel’s neck, the content, trusting smell lulling him to sleep. Dean sniffs harder as he realizes that Castiel’s scent has shifted. It’s very faint, barely perceptible, but there’s something spicy and warm in his usual honey and lemon smell. It’s familiar in a way that Dean knows well, but can’t quite put his finger on. It’s only when he’s on the cusp of drifting off to sleep that he realizes where he knows it from.

Castiel is starting to smell like home.


	11. Chapter 10

Even though he wakes up an hour before his alarm goes up, Dean feels like he’s slept for a week. His muscles are loose and relaxed, and he’s alert in a way that usually requires half a pot of coffee. Sam had tried to explain to him once what it felt like when he first moved in with Jess, the bone-deep sense that all was right in the world and everything he wanted to protect was safe and sound. Dean had blown him off at the time, but now - if this is what it feels like after a single night with someone he had barely started to bond with - he thinks he might get it.

But when he turns towards Castiel’s half of the bed, the covers are pulled back and the pillow is cold. There’s a moment of icy panic in the pit of Dean’s stomach as it occurs to him that, as close as they may have gotten over the past few days, Castiel might still be a flight risk. He’s sitting up in bed, frozen and uncertain about what to do next, when he hears the coffee maker turn on in the kitchen.

Dean pads into the kitchen in boxers and a tee shirt, to find Castiel pulling a frying pan out of the oven. His usually messy hair is completely disheveled and the sweatpants he’s borrowed from Dean are about to fall off of his hips, but he’s still the sweetest thing that Dean’s ever seen. 

Dean’s good mood dims slightly when he peers over Castiel’s shoulder at the broccoli-studded egg concoction. “Vegetables for breakfast? Really, Cas?”

Castiel shakes his head fondly. “It’s a frittata, Dean. Don’t complain...there’s bacon and cheese in it too.” Dean shakes his head slightly, but kisses Castiel’s neck before getting them both coffee.

Breakfast is quiet affair. Castiel’s scent is open and blissfully content in a way Dean doesn’t think he will ever get used to, the egg thing is actually delicious despite the broccoli, and Dean can’t bear the thought of breaking the mood with uncomfortable questions. But he owes Castiel a duty of care, and he’s determined to be as good to him as he can. So after Dean puts the dishes in the sink, he props himself against the counter with his hip and tries his best to seem casual. “So, how’d your visit with Sammy go yesterday?”

“Good, good. He just wanted to check in and make sure everything was going ok.” Castiel blushes slightly. “Apparently he could smell that we had been up to something when he and Jess came for dinner, felt like he needed to make sure that I wasn’t being pressured into anything.”

Dean winces a bit internally but manages to school his expression and nod. “I get why he had to do that, and I’m glad he’s looking after you. Are you still doing ok?”

Castiel sighs. “I’m fine...more than fine, actually. It’s kinda nice not to have to worry about someone finding out and trying to send me back to my family. At least for a little while. That was really hanging over my head.”

Dean can see the emotions play across Castiel’s face from his perch next to the sink. There’s relief there, but also obviously still trepidation. Dean is anxious too, but he’s never been one to shy away from a nerve-wracking situation, so he waits until Castiel glances up and looks him straight in the eye. “You never have to go back. I promise. Even after the investigation is over, you won’t just be put back out there alone. You can keep staying with me for as long as you want, or if this stops working for you, we can find you somewhere else safe to be. Just tell me, and I’ll make arrangements to find another alpha or beta for you to stay with. Benny, maybe.”

Castiel looks flustered. “I like Detective Lafitte fine, but I don’t know that I want to live with him.”

“Don’t say that until you taste his gumbo.” Castiel rolls his eyes, but he smells relieved. Dean sits down in the chair next to Castiel’s, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “At any rate, it’s for the best that Sam came. We need to make arrangements for you to see a doctor, and I’m not sure what the procedure is - I might need to sign something to give you permission. Did you ask him about that at all, or do you want me to give him a call?”

“We did talk about that, a bit.” Dean wrinkles his forehead in confusion as Castiel’s blush deepens, and he looks down at his hands. It wasn’t any sort of a secret that he was on blockers and suppressants before they met, and Dean thought he had made it clear that he would sign off on anything the doctor approved, no questions asked. “You can fax in a sign-off for the suppressants and blockers, but I need you to come in person if I want to get on birth control.”

Dean is dumbfounded for a second, but bites back hard on his surprise. He rubs his knuckles gently over Castiel’s jaw, and then catches him under the chin to tilt his face up so he can look him directly in the eyes. “I’ll sign off on that, sure...I’ll sign off on anything you want. But, just promise you’ll remember - you never have to do anything you don’t want to do. I want you to have them if you want them, but don’t feel like you have to use them.”

Castiel nods, a bit shakily. “I think it’ll be good to have. Just to make sure I have options, you know?”

He looks so bashful, so earnest, that Dean can’t help himself. Keeping his hand on Castiel’s chin, he leans in and kisses him, tasting coffee. Castiel doesn’t need much prompting, and a moment later he’s sliding forward to straddle Dean’s lap, pressing tightly against him. Dean threads his fingers through Castiel’s messy hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Dean presses his lips against Castiel’s neck, scraping his teeth along the scent glands just under the skin. 

Castiel groans loudly and rolls his hips, grinding his cock against Dean’s. The sudden friction forces a harsh breath out of Dean, and Castiel shivers as the air meets wet skin. Dean moans, and drops his hands to Castiel’s hips, holding him in place so that they can grind together, harder and more purposefully. When Dean is moaning under his breath, Castiel leans in to whisper in his ear. “Can you show me how to do that thing you did last night?”

Dean pulls back slightly, tilting his face until their foreheads press together. “You don’t have to, you know. I did it because I like doing it, not because I expect anything in return.”

Castiel sighs, and rubs his cheek against Dean’s. “I want to...please.”

Dean smirks. “Okay, then. You know the rules by now. Say it.”

Castiel groans, and dips his head lower to mouth against Dean’s scent glands. “Please, show me.”

“No, no, no. Go ahead and say it. I want to suck your cock.”

Castiel whimpers, and for a moment Dean isn’t sure whether he’s going to actually say it. But his voice breaks on a moan, and Castiel managed to speak. “Please, alpha. Can you show me how to suck your cock?”

“Yeah, Cas…” He sighs, gripping Castiel by the hips and manuvering him backwards until Castiel is standing on the floor between Dean’s spread thighs. “You want to suck my cock?”

Castiel’s pupils are almost completely dilated, and his scent is spicy and sweet. He bites his lip and nods.

“So good for me.” Dean reaches up to cup his hand along the back of Castiel’s neck. “Get on your knees, baby.”

Dean’s mind goes blank for a second when Castiel kneels in between his spread legs and looks up at him. He can barely manage to get his limbs to cooperate enough to shift forward to sit on the edge of the chair, pushing his boxers lower to free his cock. Dean strokes it lazily as he looks down to meet Castiel’s eyes, and nods. 

Castiel leans in slightly and licks the head of Dean’s cock tentatively, just testing it out. It’s all Dean can do to keep from leaning his head back and groaning, but he manages to keep an encouraging expression on his face. Finally, Castiel takes just the head into his mouth, his pink and slightly chapped lips stretched wide around Dean’s rigid and reddened cock. Dean moans in the back of his throat.

“Go slow, baby.”

Castiel moves slowly at first. His head pushes down and pulls back, but Dean can see him struggling to handle the thick length in his mouth and the blunt head pushing against the back of his throat. When Castiel tries to inhale on a downstroke and gets a slightly panicked look in his eyes, Dean rests a hand on the back of his head to guide him, helping him find a pattern. Together, they settle into a delicious rhythm, of Dean thrusting up gently and Castiel leaning in to meet him. It’s incredibly effective, and within minutes Dean is softly panting, his legs shaking.

When Dean lets out a particularly long, deep moan, Castiel looks up at him with an eager expression on his face. He starts moving down further and faster every time Dean thrusts up, his tongue rubbing against Dean’s cock as it moves in and out of his mouth, until finally Dean’s cock hits the back of his throat, hard. Dean jerks up at the sudden tight feeling around the head of his cock, a tingly, rushing feeling starting to gather at the base of his spine. But he backs off quickly when he hears Castiel choke, his throat convulsing uncontrollably. 

Castiel murmurs disgruntledly and leans in again immediately, his mouth enveloping the head of Dean’s cock. But Dean pulls him back, rubbing his thumb against the kneeling omega’s sharp jaw to soften the refusal. 

Dean’s voice is low and horse, but he’s proud that he can manage to speak at all. “Hey, hey...not so deep. The best part is right around the head; you can use your hand for the rest.”

Castiel gets a mischievous look on his face, but before Dean can question what he’s up to too closely, Castiel is threading his hand through the waistband of his sweatpants. When he pulls it back out, it’s covered in slick, and the scent of eager, willing omega hits Dean’s nose all at once. Dean groans, low and dirty, when Castiel uses his now-slick hand to start jerking off the parts of Dean’s cock he can’t reach with his mouth.

Dean doesn’t manage to hold off long after that. It’s just too much: the aroused and eager omega smell running off Castiel in waves, the tight wet heat on his cock, the flush on Castiel’s cheeks as he looks up at him from under his eyelashes. When his pleasure meets a rushing peek, Dean grips the edge of his chair tightly to keep from pushing Castiel’s head down as far as he can. He comes, hard.

For a few moments, all Dean can manage to do is sit there, trembling and breathing hard. Finally, he manages to pull up his boxers before hauling Castiel up from the floor and onto his lap, immediately burying his face into the soft spot right below his omega’s ear. The smell is amazing - honey and lemon and sex and home.

Castiel just murmurs to him, rubbing the back of his neck softly. Once Dean’s breathing evens out a bit, Castiel looks him in the eyes and smiles. “So, that was good for you?” He says it like a joke, but there’s uncertainty in his voice.

Dean pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “God, baby. So fucking good.”

Castiel blushes, looking proud. “Good.”

Castiel starts to get up off of his lap, but Dean just jerks him closer and stands up instead, balancing the majority of Castiel’s weight on his hips. Castiel lets out a startled squeak, and then clings to Dean, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his torso. From there it’s just a short stumble into the bedroom, with Castiel spending the entire time with his face in Dean’s neck, biting and licking. When Dean reaches the foot of the bed, he lets go and tilts Castiel backwards until he falls, bouncing on the unmade covers.

Castiel looks up at him for a moment, confused, and then moans softly as Dean quickly strips off his sweatpants and grabs him by the back of the thighs, hauling him towards the foot of the bed. Dean stands there in between his splayed thighs, pushing Castiel’s legs up and open until his feet sit flat on the bed, his pelvis tilted back.

Dean reaches down, running the blunt tip of his thumb against Castiel’s wet hole. Castiel’s cock is already hard and dripping, leaning towards his flat stomach. When Dean pushes harder, pressing just the tip of his thumb inside, Castiel whimpers loudly and digs his heels into the bed, trying to take his digit deeper.

Dean smiles, and moves his thumb in a tight circle. “Want more, baby?”

Castiel bites his lip hard, and nods.

“Good, good. I’ll give you more, but you gotta do something for me.”

Castiel looks up at him, eyes going wide when Dean slides his thumb out, quickly replacing it with two fingers that gently curve up against the sensitive, slightly rough spot inside. Castiel groans and shifts restlessly, nodding his head frantically and fisting his hands in the rumpled comforter spread out on the bed.

Dean reaches up with his free hand, gently prying one of Castiel’s hands free from the covers and wrapping it around his cock. “I want to see you touch yourself.” Dean wraps his own hand around Castiel’s hand, gently moving it up and down his cock once. “Go ahead...make yourself feel good.” Dean moves his hand away, gently rubbing Castiel’s hip instead.

Castiel wrinkles his forehead, but his cock is twitching hard and obviously interested. “I’ve never...I don’t know how…”

Dean doesn’t let him finish the sentence. He pumps his fingers in and out, once, twice, running his fingertips against Castiel’s sweet spot each time. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Just stroke yourself, baby. Figure out what makes you feel good.”

Castiel moves his hand up and down, experimentally. Dean watches fondly as Castiel alternatives between tight and hard, fast and slow, the expressions on his face changing quickly as he learns what he likes, what he doesn’t like, and what he really, really likes. All the while, Dean keeps his fingers pumping in and out of Castiel’s hole, tilting his hand slightly to rub gentle circles on Castiel’s perineum with his thumb. 

When Castiel’s moans start to sound high-pitched and frustrated, Dean takes pity on him and once again places his own hand over the hand Castiel has wrapped around his cock. Dean squeezes just tight enough and moves both of their hands together, rubbing his thumb around the top of Castiel’s cock on each up stroke. In a matter of seconds, Castiel’s legs go rigid as he lifts his hips off the bed entirely, crying out loudly as he comes over his stomach and Dean’s hand. Dean has to bite back a moan of his own when Castiel’s hole clamps down hard on his fingers, milking them when he comes. 

When Castiel’s gasping cries turn into low moans, Dean quickly pulls his hands free and climbs over Castiel’s prone body. He pulls them both up completely onto the bed, until they are able to stretch out comfortably with their heads on pillows.

Castiel wastes no time, immediately wrapping himself tightly around Dean and burying his face in his neck, scenting him. Dean just smiles and rubs his back, murmuring gentle nonsense until Castiel stops trembling. He honestly can’t decide which he likes better - the sweet and sleepy Castiel that pressed against him as they fell asleep last night, or the wrecked and satiated Castiel that is pressed against him now. Dean shuts his eyes tighter and hopes he has a long time to make up his mind.

After a while, Castiel cuddles even closer to him, and rubs his nose against Dean’s neck. “God, alpha, you smell so good.”

“Yeah?” Dean has been dreading this moment since last night, and tries hard to keep his voice causal. “Do I smell any different to you? I know you were having trouble scenting me before.”

Castiel snorts gently. “What are you, fishing for compliments? You smell good, just like always.”

A deep, thudding pain settles into Dean’s chest. He hadn’t wanted to ask Castiel outright and risk pressuring him into something he doesn’t feel, but Dean’s mind is whirling and he has no idea what to do now. Whenever he had thought about settling down with someone, finding someone that smelled like home to him, it had just never occurred to him that the feeling wouldn’t be mutual. Finally, Dean settles on the closest thing to the truth he can manage without giving himself away. 

“Yeah...it’s nothing really. Just want to make sure I always smell like what you need.”

 

They settle into a day-to-day pattern quickly after that. Given his delicate state the last time he got medical attention, they manage to get an appointment with Castiel’s doctor the next day. The visit is absolutely excruciating, even though Castiel seems to take it all in stride. The doctor is impressed with his progress and seems to be warming up to Dean, up until the point that Castiel asks about birth control. She then immediately kicks Dean out of the exam room, although he can faintly hear her asking Castiel question after question from his seat in the hallway right outside the door. He can’t quite make out Castiel’s responses, but whatever he says apparently mollifies the doctor enough that Dean is allowed back into the room a few minutes later. She gives them what Dean considers to be an unnecessarily explicit conversation about what to expect during an omega’s first time, a prescription for suppressants, blockers, and birth control, and a warning. Although there are no medical indications that Castiel has been harmed by his time on black market suppressants and blockers, there are some medical problems that might not be clear unless he goes through a full estrus cycle. Consequently, Castiel should plan to step off of suppressants at some point during the next year, to make sure his body can still successfully handle a heat. Castiel and Dean are still both flushed bright red by that thought as they make their way from the doctor’s office to the Impala.

It’s almost worth it, though, for the flustered look that Benny gets when Dean tells him that Dr. Kormos was asking after him.

The suppressants and blockers kick in quickly, and Castiel is thrilled when his omega smell fades enough that he can go back to school, even though there’s a plain-clothes police officer following him and he has to go home immediately after class. Dean mourns the sweet omega smell that had filled his apartment and clung to Castiel when they cuddled on the couch. But after Castiel catches Dean nuzzling his scent glands and sighing wistfully, he takes to showering immediately after arriving home. 

There had always been a part of Dean that dreaded going home to an empty apartment. Now every evening he looks forward to the sight of a messy-haired man sitting in front of his coffee table scribbling on a notepad, and the unique apple, honey, and cinnamon smell that signifies the home they’ve made together. Even though Castiel never seems to notice it, Dean tells himself that it’s enough that he knows it’s there.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny continue working the case. It’s unglamorous and painstaking work at this point, checking and cross-checking and re-checking facts until they can start to put together a comprehensive picture of activities that someone else had worked very hard to keep secret. Dean brings home a big box of photographs of the room with the language of the angels written on the walls. Some nights he comes home to find them spread out all over the floor, and Castiel hastily scribbling something that looks slightly different from his usual equations. 

One night, though, Dean comes home to find that Castiel has taped them all over the walls of the bathroom, trying to recreate the exact way in which they were written on the walls of the room in the warehouse. Castiel is sitting on the tile floor in the middle of all this, surrounded by a half dozen empty coffee cups and trembling slightly as he writes. Dean quickly draws the line at this, and they spend the rest of the night twined together on the couch, watching Monty Python.

Less than a week after their second visit to the warehouse, Dean and Benny head back to the apartment after work, stopping off to pick up pizza on the way. They spread out all their notes on the case and eat in the living room, with Benny in the armchair and Dean sprawled on the couch, Castiel sitting cross-legged in front of the coffee table at his feet. Once the pizza is gone, Castiel starts to explain what he’s learned from trying to translate the equations written on the wall.

“So, as far as I can tell, they haven’t changed too much since Dad was working on this. The basic process of extracting DNA and analyzing it is really similar. What is different is where they are doing it from. My dad focused on samples taken from scent glands, since he thought that would be where the omega influence was strongest. But they are taking samples from other places in the body.”

Benny creases his forehead in confusion. “But I thought that DNA was supposed to be the same all over?”

“Reading up on medical facts, Benny?” Dean waggles his eyebrows, and laughs when Benny gives him the finger.

Castiel just rolls his eyes and continues. “Exactly. Plus, they are doing all sorts of things to the omegas before they take the samples. They are dosing them with steroids before taking samples from muscles, going through detoxification programs before taking samples from the liver, even putting them through fertility treatments before taking samples from reproductive organs. But that doesn’t make any sense either...none of those things should change DNA. Why would they do that?”

Dean rubs the back of Castiel’s neck when his scent flares with irritation and anxiety. Castiel turns his face into Dean’s hand, nuzzling his palm before speaking. “I just wish my dad was here. I feel like he’d know what to do.”

Dean’s voice is gentle and soft. “Do you have any idea where he went?”

Castiel just sighs. “Not at all. I can tell you were the compound was, but I haven’t seen him since then.”

Benny flips through his notepad, looking for a blank sheet. “Give it to me, I’ll look into it.”

Castiel gives him an address in New Hampshire. “At any rate, you’d need a lot of special equipment to pull off this kind of work. I’m talking about industrial level power inputs, plus a gyroscopically stable work surface for some of the more delicate work. There’s no way they were doing all of this at the warehouse.”

Dean’s eyes narrow as a thought occurs to him. “Benny, do you have a list of properties owned by that Crowley guy?”

“Way ahead of you, brother...can you start pulling up the public records database? Crowley would have needed to get a special permit to install that kind of stuff. We should be able to cross-check the addresses.”

Benny and Dean both get to work, heads down over their laptops. There are a few false starts, and a moment where Dean thinks they might have gone down a completely wrong path. But by the end of the night, they have an address of an abandoned factory in Van Nuys, and a completed application for a search warrant ready for a judge’s sign off.


	12. Chapter 11

At dawn the next morning, Dean and Benny find themselves drinking coffee in the Impala, wearing windbreakers and bulletproof vests. They’re in a staging area about a quarter mile away from the factory, waiting for the surveillance team to get a read on what’s going on inside. Much to Dean’s chagrin, LAPD policy requires that a raid on a building this size be conducted by a full tactical team - especially given that all signs indicated that the suspects inside are heavily armed. But Dean refuses to step aside entirely, so after a fairly extensive argument with his lieutenant and the tactical sargent, Dean and Benny are set to head in through the side door and clear the back office. Dean put up a big fuss in front of his boss about getting shunted off to the side, but he’s secretly pleased - he knows what he’s looking for, and it’s not likely to be in the main space of the factory.

Now all he needs is for tactical ops to stop futzing around and get this show on the road.

After the third time Dean reenacts the drum solo from Led Zeppelin’s Moby Dick on his steering wheel, Benny glares at him from the passenger seat.

“C’mon, man...gotta do something to pass the time.” Dean pauses, then grins. “Unless there’s something else you’d rather be doing at this time of the morning.”

Benny rolls his eyes. “Sleeping, Dean. I’d rather be sleeping.”

“Alone?” Dean’s grin slides into a smirk.

Benny blushes, and shrugs. “I’m working still working on it, brother. Not all of us end up with a happily ever after because the omega of our dreams was legally required to move in with us.”

Even Dean can smell the sharp and sour turn his scent takes. Benny shoots him a concerned look. “What happened?”

“He’s started to smell like home to me,” Dean replies, trying - and failing - to keep the distress of his face.

Benny’s face lights up, and his lips twist into a smile. “That’s fantastic, brother. Congrat…”

Dean doesn’t let him get to the end of the sentence. “But I don’t think I smell like home to him.”

Benny’s face falls. “Oh man…”

“I don’t know what to do now. I mean, I’ve heard of one-sided bonds before, but it’s just so fucking rare…”

Benny gives him a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you are actually bonding to him? I mean, just because you’ve knotted him doesn’t mean…”

Dean exhales in a sudden huff. “But I haven’t knotted him yet.” Benny’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “What? I can take things slow when I want. And it’s not like we haven’t found other things to do in the meantime…”

Benny holds a hand up. “I don’t need details, brother.”

“And you’re not getting them,” Dean replies, quickly. “Just because you’re not getting laid doesn’t mean you get to live vicariously through me.” He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. “Anyways, bonding has nothing to do with knotting. It’s just supposed to be about being close, for an alpha and an omega. The way he responds...I can’t believe he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“It’s gotta be tough on him, though,” Benny replies. “When we first met him, his pheromones were so screwed up he didn’t know if he was coming or going. Maybe it’ll just take time.”

Dean shrugs, and is about to argue the point when the tactical sargent knocks his fist twice against the hood of the Impala.

Benny and Dean, along with a couple of tactical officers, head silently through the side door less than 10 minutes later. Dean can hear flashbangs going off and yelling from the front of the building, but his entire focus is on finding the office. A left turn and a quick right, and Dean calls the group to a halt outside a closed door. The blood is rushing in his ears, but he feels calm and focused as he shoulders the door open. There are two figures inside: a small, blond man who seems half asleep in a chair, and a tall, dark-haired man facing the wall with his back to the door, red paint dripping from his fingertips. Dean’s eyes go wide as he stares at the now-familiar symbols on the wall. He can’t have paused for more than half a heartbeat, but it’s enough time for the tactical officer behind him to step in and order both of the men to the ground. Dean manages to catch just a glimpse of the dark-haired man’s face as he’s lowering himself to the floor, but he’d know that face anywhere.

Alastair.

The initial rush of knowing they have Alastair in custody - after months of running down dead ends and double checking leads - only lasts a few minutes. While one of the tactical officers leads the blond man away, Benny finishes handcuffing Alastair and half-drags, half-lifts him off the floor. When he’s back on his feet, Alastair twists his lips back from his teeth in an warped version of a smile. His voice is a knowing, oily hiss. “Hello, Dean. Fancy meeting you here.”

The words feel greasy against Dean’s skin, but he’s too well trained to take the bait. Instead, Dean just nods as Benny starts reading Alastair his rights. But when Benny gets to the part about remaining silent, Alastair just smirks harder at Dean. “Enjoy the silence while it lasts, Dean. I’ve never been one to go quietly.” 

Benny manhandles Alastair out of the room before he manages to say anything else, but his parting words eat away at Dean. He’s used to blustery, confident suspects, to arresting people who are so used to talking their way out of trouble that they don’t realize they’re stuck this time until the trial. But Alastair doesn’t seem like type to bluff, and he sure as shit isn’t pretending that he’s innocent. Instead, the look in his eyes is satisfied and triumphant, like he’s got Dean backed into a corner and he’s just waiting for Dean to realize it.

The nagging feeling in the back of Dean’s mind starts to harden into something more defined. He stays behind to wait for the crime scene guys to show up, pulling on latex gloves and using his cell phone to start snap pictures of the symbols on the walls, what he’s now come to think of as the language of the angels. For a brief moment, Dean can almost see how Cas will arrange these pictures on the floor, bending over them and tracing them with his fingertips just like he’s done with the ones from the warehouse. Dean smiles to himself at the mental image of the open, unguarded look on his omega’s face as he works his way through a problem. It’s a sweet, domestic picture, and Dean lingers over it. He knows better than to let himself be distracted for a more than a moment, but this time, a moment’s enough. Dean doesn’t notice the slight, strange resistance when he opens the desk drawer until he hears an ominous click.

Dean has just enough time to let go of the drawer and jump back before the room explodes.

 

Dean finally manages to make it home 12 hours later. He’s bruised and sore, with three cracked ribs, a dozen stitches in his head, and absolutely no part of him that doesn’t ache. Every breath sends a new, sharp pain through his side, but Dean can’t help but sigh with relief when he opens his apartment door to see Castiel parked on the floor in front of the coffee table, writing away as always, and the sweet, warm smell of omega permeating the apartment.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t look up, but Dean can see the smile on his face from the doorway. “Hey, you. You wouldn’t believe what happened in class today. We’ve been working on non-abelian groups, and I think I’ve finally managed to figure out what I was doing wrong on the problem set. Anyways, I was in such a good mood that I made that chicken thing you like in the Instant Pot. I left it on warm for you, if you’re still hungry…”

Dean manages to stumble forward a few steps while Castiel chatters away happily. He rests his hand against the wall, leaning heavily with his good side. His head is absolutely throbbing and the skin is starting to feel tight around the stitches, but the satisfied feeling he gets from seeing his omega happy and safe in him home is thrumming in his chest. But when Dean inhales deeper to savor the sweet lemon-tinged honey scent that signifies a happy Castiel, his cracked ribs expand too far. A sudden, sharp pain shoots down his side, and a low groan slips through Dean’s lips before he can bite it back.

“Dean?” Castiel looks up, brow wrinkled. His face twists with surprise, eyes going wide as he takes in Dean’s bruised and battered form. “Dean!” he repeats, as he quickly picks himself up off the floor. From the look of panic on his face, Dean can guess that he might somehow look even worse than he feels.

A second later, Castiel is standing directly in front of Dean, carefully tracing his fingertips over Dean’s jaw, staying well clear of the gash across his temple. Castiel’s scent has gone lemon-y sharp, but there’s still a sweet undertone that Dean can feel melting the muscles in the back of his neck. The adrenalin he’s been running on all day is starting to fail him, and Dean is suddenly exhausted. He rests his head against Castiel’s forehead, and whimpers softly under his breath.

Castiel reaches his hand up to rub Dean’s bicep. “It’s ok, Alpha. Just let me take care of you.”

Even in his weakened state, Dean can’t resist. “I can take care of myself,” he grumbles under his breath.”

Castiel pulls his head back and looks up at Dean, rolling his eyes. “Shut it,” he says fondly. He takes Dean by the hand and gently leads him into the bathroom. Dean stumbles a bit as he walks, and then groans loudly when he tries to stretch to take his shirt off. “Stop,” Castiel scolds, reaching up to gently to ease Dean’s tee shirt over his head, using both hands to guide it around the stitches on Dean’s face. Castiel slides his fingertips carefully down Dean’s torso, skirting around the bruises on his side and the gash above his belly button, then leans in close and presses his face into Dean’s neck, inhaling deeply. 

Ignoring the pain that shoots through his ribs each time he lifts his arm, Dean cups the back of Castiel’s neck with his hand, rubbing his thumb right below Castiel’s ear. “S’ok...I’m gonna be ok. Just sore for awhile…” Dean whispers to Castiel.

Castiel pulls back and nods jerkily, biting his lower lip. Dean slides his hand forward, cradling Castiel’s jaw and wiping away the tears that are slowly winding their way down his face. Castiel gives him a watery smile, and exhales shakily. They stand like that for a few moments, and then Castiel steps back and kneels at Dean’s feet. He carefully helps Dean out his shoes and socks, and then reaches up to undo his belt and pants. Dean is a bit wobbly on his feet and reaches down to steady himself on Castiel’s shoulder as he steps out of the rest of his clothes.

Castiel leaves him there, leaning heavily against the closed bathroom door, while he turns the shower on, testing the temperature with his hand. He then steps back from the shower, yanking his own tee shirt over his head before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. Dean can’t help but smile as Castiel unselfconsciously pull off his clothes, smirking a bit when Castiel catches him watching. He just shrugs when Castiel tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “What? I’ve always liked a show.”

“Well, maybe next time you’ll feel well enough to do more than just watch.” Castiel grins, and removes his sweatpants quickly before leaning down to gather up all the clothes on the floor and throw them into the hamper. Dean limps his way across the tiny bathroom, and Castiel helps him step over the edge of the tub and into the shower. The hot water on his back makes him hiss at first, but after a few moments it seeps into his sore and strained muscles, untangling knots he was barely aware of over the sharper pain in his side and head.

Castiel smiles up at him, and then reaches for the soap. He starts at Dean’s shoulders, almost reverently soaping up every inch of his skin, tracing the muscles on his arms and the ridges of his collarbones. The lather drips down Dean’s torso and Castiel spreads it further with his fingers, gently massaging the unharmed skin and barely skimming cuts and bruises. Castiel shifts lower, kneeling in front of Dean to run the soap over sharp hip bones and down his legs.

When Dean has been scrubbed clean, any trace of the long day gone from his skin, Castiel quickly washes himself down and switches their places so that he can rinse off. Dean pulls him close, cradling him against the side of his body without cracked ribs. Castiel stretches up towards him and inhales deeply against his neck. “Mmmm...you smell so much better now…”

“Yeah?” Dean’s stomach suddenly goes tight, but he can’t make himself ask the question.

“Yeah,” Castiel replies, a bit dreamily. “Blood isn’t a good smell on anyone. I much prefer apples and firewood and…” Castiel breaks off mid-sentence to inhale again, deeper. “Something spicy?” Dean murmurs wordlessly to him, rubbing his back in gentle circles. Castiel sighs and rests his head against Dean’s shoulder. “At any rate, do you want a soak? Might make you feel better….” Castiel’s voice is low and rumbly.

“Oh, god yes….” The words are out of Dean’s mouth before he even has time to think about them. Castiel chuckles at his eagerness and bends over to stopper the drain, leaving the shower on to fill the bath. Dean groans as Castiel helps him lie back in the tub, the porcelain ice cold in comparison to the hot water around them. Castiel lowers himself down next, straddling Dean’s hips and curling up lightly against the uninjured side of his chest. For several long minutes they linger like that, the hot water driving down from the shower above and slowly filling up the tub around them.

Once the tub is half full, Dean can feel himself move easier, floating in the water. Castiel is still relaxed against him, but Dean can feel hips start to move restlessly against his own. When Dean shifts his weight, the hard line of Castiel’s cock becomes apparent against his abdomen. Dean groans softly, running his hands from Castiel’s shoulders to grip his hips tightly. “Careful, there...don’t start something you don’t plan on finishing.”

“Well, what if I want to finish it?”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Dean teases him, the steamy water continuing to beat down on them both.

“Of course I am, Dean,” Castiel responds, his voice formal and almost haughty. “In fact, I find finishing to be the best part.”

Dean chuckles and then leans back further, resting his hands against the side of the tub. “Alright, then...but you’re gonna have to do all the work. I don’t know that I’m in any condition for heavy lifting.”

Castiel braces his hands against the tub next to Dean’s head, keeping his weight off of Dean’s injured ribs. He nuzzles the side of Dean’s face, soft and sweet, then starts running a line of kisses behind Dean’s ear and down his jaw. As the seconds stretch into minutes, Dean can feel his cock begin to fill, driven by the hips thrusting aimlessly against his own and the smell of aroused omega, intensified by the steam and the small space. Still, Dean resists the urge to turn his head to catch Castiel’s lips, instead enjoying the hot driving water against his face.

By the time Castiel finally - finally! - shifts his weight and starts to tease Dean’s lips with his tongue, Dean’s cock is hard and aching, trapped between his stomach and Castiel’s. Dean can feel it nudging against hard line of Castiel’s cock, brushing together haphazardly whenever Castiel grinds his hips in exactly the right way. Dean groans as one particularly hard thrust sends sparks up the base of his spine, and moves his hand to the back of Castiel’s neck, holding his head in place to lick past his lips and kiss him deeply, fully. When Dean pulls back, Castiel is breathless, starting down at him with blown pupils. Dean smiles up at him, fondly, and then rubs their foreheads together. “C’mon, baby. Gonna feel so good.”

Castiel exhales shakily and presses one last kiss to Dean’s lips, before sitting back on his knees. Dean shakes his head when Castiel reaches for his cock. “Water isn’t slippery enough. Try the body wash.” Castiel nods, and pours a palmful into his hand. He reaches down and forms a slick tunnel around their cocks with both his hands. The heat of his hands, artificially warm from the shower, is almost overwhelming, and Dean has to stop himself from arching his back and twisting his cracked ribs further. Instead, he settles for a low long moan. “Just like I showed you, Cas. Nice and tight.” 

Castiel bites his lip, and tightens his hands around their cocks. He starts a slow, almost deliberate pace, thrusting his hips up and bringing his hands down to meet them. There’s a hard, relentless grind against Dean’s cock, both an up and down movement at the same time. It’s got Dean panting almost embarrassingly fast, but he’s so exhausted he can’t hold back for long. White light flashes behind his closed eyelids as he arches his head against the back of the bathtub, thighs trembling as he comes. Dean is almost tempted to apologize, but the look Castiel gives him when he opens his eyes is triumphant. “See? I told you I could finish it…”

Dean chuckles tiredly under his breath, and then grips Castiel’s hip with one hand. “Mmmm….seems like you’re only halfway done to me.” He reaches down and pumps Castiel’s throbbing cock once, twice. Castiel gasps, and thrusts impatiently against Dean’s hand. “Let me see you finish yourself up.”

Castiel moans loudly, and reaches for his cock again. Dean rubs his hand over Castiel’s hip, and then further back to tease his hole. As soon as Castiel finds a steady rhythm, fucking his hand with long, slow strokes, Dean moves his fingers down, sliding one, then two into Castiel’s tight, wet hole. Castiel throws his head back as Dean runs his fingers over the sweet spot inside, clenching hard and moving his hand faster over his cock. Dean watches the pleasure light up Castiel’s face, as he leans back further to brace one hand against the tub and thrust up into his hand, riding Dean’s fingers as he moves back and forth. “That’s it, baby,” Dean croons as Castiel’s thighs start to shake, “so good for me. Make yourself feel good.”

A little bit of praise was apparently all Castiel needed, and he tumbles over the edge quickly, coming into his hand and across Dean’s abdomen. His orgasm leaves him panting and trembling when it’s over, and Dean pulls him down to snuggle against his chest, murmuring soft words and nuzzling his neck until Castiel stops shaking. When the water starts to turn lukewarm, then cold, Castiel rinses them both down one more time. He then stands, shutting off the water and helping Dean out of the tub before toweling them both dry. 

The bedroom is only a few feet down the hall, but Dean is convinced it’s the longest walk he’s ever taken. Castiel helps him into bed, and Dean is barely able to stay awake long enough for Castiel to curl up against him. As soon as he feels the familiar weight in bed beside him, Dean’s eyes drift closed one more time and he falls into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and I apologize for the short chapter. I do realize I’ve managed to stretch this out for an incredibly long time without any penetrative sex; I really enjoy a slow burn, and I think in the context it makes sense for the characters. But, if you read ABO fanfic for the hard core penetrative sex scenes...stay tuned for the next chapter :-)


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up having to split this chapter into two parts because it was getting way, way too long for me to write. Unfortunately, all of the angst and plot stuff was in the first half; and all of the warm and fuzzy (+ sexy) stuff is in the second half. So, enjoy the angst, I guess, and I promise that the next chapter will be (a) much happier and (b) out sometime this week.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!!

Dean can feel his ribs aching before he even opens his eyes the next morning. He spends most of the next three days on the couch, trying not to move more than necessary. Castiel hovers for most of the first day, worried and sweetly attentive. But after Castiel somehow manages to set off the smoke alarm the next morning trying to make a smoothie, Dean gently but firmly forces him to go to class. Still, Castiel spends almost every minute he’s home on the floor in front of the couch, with Dean’s fingers gently running through his hair.

Benny comes by on Thursday, bringing burgers and updates from the investigation. He flings himself into the armchair while Dean spreads the food out on the coffee table. Benny has bags under his eyes, and eats like he’s forgotten his last meal. After drinking half his beer in one sip, Benny wipes his mouth and starts talking. “So, the first thing you need to understand is that Alastair is bat-shit crazy.”

Dean resists rolling his eyes. “Yeah, kinda got that from the part where he’s been been conducting experiments on kidnapped omegas and taking notes on the walls in creepy red paint. I’m really more interested in why he’s doing it. Is he just planning on running a freaky torture gang the rest of his life, or does he plan on diversifying into another line of work down the road?”

Benny snags another handful of fries. “That’s the other thing, brother. It’s not his gang...Alastair’s just middle management.” Dean’s eyebrows fly up at that. “Basically, he’s the product development guy. There’s someone else up the food chain who takes whatever he makes that might be worth selling, and brings him whatever supplies he needs.”

“And by ‘supplies’ you mean omegas, right?” Castiel interrupts, his voice tense and his scent acrid.

Dean slides his hand down to the back of Castiel’s neck, while Benny resumes his explanation. “You’re right. And we’re trying to get the kidnapping operation shutdown as soon as possible. I think maybe you might be able to help us with that.” Benny pauses, only continuing when it becomes clear that Castiel isn’t going to respond. “Alastair’s talking, but we can’t get much out of him about his connection, just that the guy’s name is Luc. Do you think he might be talking about Lucifer?”

“Why would you assume its my brother?” Dean can feel Castiel’s back stiffen under his hand, and rubs his thumb over the top of his spine soothingly.

Benny shrugs a bit. “It’s just a theory at this point, but there’s only so many people who could have taught Alastair about the language of the angels. What do you think?”

“I mean, it’s possible, but without more to go on there’s just no way to know.” Castiel sighs heavily. “Did Alastair tell you anything else about him?”

“Not really, no.” Benny’s voice is exhausted, and he scrubs his hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s just been a long week. Alastair would not shut up about his experiments, and I can only take so much of that mad science shit.”

Dean nods sympathetically. “I can imagine all that bullshit would get old fast.”

Benny leans back in his chair before replying. “Wasn’t all bullshit though. Alastair didn’t spend all his time working on a cure for the Croatoan virus. We’ve already connected his lab to a new kind of meth that killed four people out in Ventura last month, and apparently some of the stuff he came up even found its way into the pharmaceutical market.”

Dean just shakes his head in response, and drains the rest of his beer. Although Benny seems to relax as they start chatting about what Dean has missed over the last couple of days, Dean knows him well enough to tell he’s holding something back. Dean keeps waiting for him to bring it up on his own, but the third time Benny looks at Castiel like he’s trying to work his way up to something, Dean threads his hands through Castiel’s hair and pulls his head back gently, until their eyes meet.

“Baby, could you get me another beer?”

Castiel gives him a look that could cut glass, and even Benny raises his eyebrows at this. After a long and awkward pause, Castiel finally responds. “Seriously?”

Dean laughs low, then shrugs. “Worth a shot, anyway.” He struggles just a bit to get to his feet, but he’s stable once he’s up. He shoots a meaningful glance at Benny, who takes the hint and follows him almost immediately, mumbling something about helping him find the fridge. Dean knows they’ll only have a few minutes before Castiel gets suspicious, so as soon as he pulls a beer out of the fridge and twists off the top, he props his hip against the counter and turns to Benny. “Talk.”

Benny grunts and sits on the kitchen table, tearing the label off of his beer in strips. “I also followed up on the address Castiel gave us in New Hampshire. Local police sent out a squad car. Place was completely deserted, looked like it had been burned down years ago. But I’ve got a buddy with the state police, who followed up with a cadaver dog. They found a body buried in the woods behind the house, middle-aged male omega, been dead about 8 or 9 years, best they can tell.”

Dean exhales heavily, his heart sinking. “Do you think…”

“Time frame fits,” Benny answers, nodding. “Would have been about the time Castiel’s dad went missing. Did he ever say anything about his dad being an omega?”

“I don’t think he’s ever said anything either way, just that his brothers were all alphas. But what kind of omega would…” Dean breaks off mid-sentence, thinking of the mutilated bodies, the traumatized omegas from the warehouse who were still barely speaking. “Shit.”

“Are you going to tell Castiel?”

“Tell me what?” Castiel is leaning against the kitchen door frame, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Dean was so focused on Benny’s news that he didn’t hear Castiel pad in from the living room. Castiel’s got his determined face on, the same face he used on Dean the first day they met, when he was lying bruised and beaten in a hospital bed insisting that he was a Beta no matter what Dean could smell. A sudden wave of nostalgia washes over Dean as his omega glares at him from across the room and he reaches for him almost without thinking about it. “C’mere, baby.”

Castiel doesn’t look convinced, but he crosses the kitchen and lets Dean pull him close. Dean presses against him, arm around his waist. “Benny’s got some questions for you...about your dad.” Castiel’s eyes narrow, but he nods and turns to face Benny, leaning heavily against Dean.

Benny takes a deep breath. “What can you tell me about your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“What he looked like...y’know, how tall was he, any items you would expect him to have on him, his designation…”

“What could it possibly matter now what his designation is?” 

Castiel’s voice is angry and suspicious, and Dean can feel him stomach start to knot and unknot, trying to shift his scent into a more soothing tone. Dean leans down and nuzzles his neck, gripping his hips with both hands. “Just answer the question, Cas.”

“Fine.” Castiel pauses. “He was a few inches shorter than me, so...like 5’8, 5’9, I guess. And he was an omega like me, if that matters for anything. I’m not sure about personal items. The only thing I really remember him wearing is a wedding ring. It had a quote engraved on the inside...” Castiel rolls his eyes up as if he’s trying to remember something. “ ‘But if I do not have love…’ ”

“ ‘...I am nothing.’ ” Benny finishes. 

Castiel inhales sharply. “How did you know that?”

Benny presses his lips together. “Castiel, I asked police in New Hampshire to check up on the address you gave me. It didn’t look like anyone had been living there for years, but they found a body buried nearby. It was a middle-aged, male omega, wearing a wedding ring with that quote engraved on it. Looks like it’d been buried there for about 8 years.” Benny pauses, then exhales. Dean can feel Castiel tense under his hands, his scent flare lemon and sour, and then, alarmingly, disappear altogether. “I’m so sorry, but I think it might be your dad.”

Dean can feel Castiel tighten under his hands, as if he’s bracing for a blow. “Are you sure?”

“We’re not sure, not yet. If you’d be willing to give us a DNA sample, we can confirm it.”

“How did he die?” Castiel’s voice has taken on the awful monotone that it had when Dean first met him. It’s even more jarring now that it’s on his omega.

“Castiel, I’m not sure…” Benny’s eyes flicker to Dean.

“Don’t look at him,” Castiel snaps out. “Dean isn’t the one asking the question; I am. How did my father die?”

Benny lowers his eyes once more to meet Castiel’s. “We’re not sure yet. His injuries were...extensive. It’s going to take some time to figure out, but it looks like someone hurt him a lot before he died.” When Castiel sighs slightly, brokenly, Benny continues. “Do you remember anything else about the night he and your brother left?”

“Like what?”

“You said that Lucifer and Michael had a huge fight that night. Do you remember what it was about? Did either of them say anything about your dad?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Are you saying that one of my brothers killed my dad?”

“I’m not saying anything...just trying to figure out what might have happened.” Benny has lowered his voice into the soothing register he uses to speak with omega victims.

Dean can feel Castiel trembling, so he slides his hands up, bracing one arm across his chest and the other around his waist. When Castiel doesn’t say anything, just starts shaking harder, Dean steps in. “Maybe we can take this up another time, Benny?”

“Of course...whenever you’re ready, Castiel.”

Benny finds an excuse to leave a few minutes later. He and Dean chat quietly while Bepacks up the papers he’d brought over, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. Benny pauses after Dean walks him to the door, cupping the back of his neck and squeezing gently. “Good luck, brother.”

Dean nods once, sharply. He relocks the door after Benny leaves, and then turns around to see Castiel standing in the doorway from the kitchen, silhouetted in the brighter light.

“He’s gone?” Castiel’s voice is low, gravelly.

“Yeah, Cas...he’s gone.” Castiel walks past the living room towards Dean, his face stony and blank. “How are you feeling?”

Castiel eyes squeeze shut. “I thought he abandoned us. I just always assumed he went away, and left us behind. It never occurred to me that….” Castiel’s voice breaks once. “He was always so much larger than life, Dean. It honestly never occurred to me that someone could…”

Dean’s mind flits to his own father who, even in his retirement, is a force to be reckoned with. “I know.” Dean tilts his head, watching the slight trembling around Castiel’s mouth. “What do you need?”

Castiel exhales, and steps closer to Dean. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Dean reaches out for him, grabbing his hip and guiding him closer until they are pressed together. “You’re not supposed to do anything, baby...I think you just have to feel your way through it.”

Castiel nods, his eyes finally filling up with tears. He wraps his arms around Dean, pressing his face into his neck. Dean holds him back, sinking to the floor in front of the door and pulling Castiel into his lap, silently cradling him while he cries.

 

Castiel skips class on Friday at Dean’s insistence, and they spend the next two days huddled together on the couch. Castiel barely talks, and doesn’t look at the work he’s brought home once. Benny must have given Sam a head’s up, because he calls five times in a row on Saturday night. Dean doesn’t want to take the call in front of Castiel, but he manages to coerce Castiel into a tub full of hot water just before the phone rings for the sixth time.

“Hiya, Sammy.”

“Hi, Dean.” Sam’s voice is careful and compassionate in a way that Dean isn’t sure how to respond to. “How’s Cas doing?”

Dean sighs, long and loud. “He’s getting by, I guess? I don’t know man. He’s gotten all clingy and quiet. I’m not sure what to do with him like this.”

“I mean, he did just find out his dad was murdered and that one of his brothers probably did it. It’s normal for him to be upset.”

“No, no...I get that.” Dean runs his hand through his hair, pacing around the living room. “But every time I’ve seen him handling something upsetting before, he’s fought back. Fuck, Sam, when he was getting the shit beaten out of him by a bunch of alphas with guns, his response was to make sure he gave the 911 operator a good description. I’ve never seen him defeated before. I just...I don’t know how to help him.”

“Maybe his reaction is a good thing…” Dean can’t help the snort that comes out of him at that, and he can practically hear Sam rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone. “No, I mean it. No one - alpha or omega - can be that in control all the time. It might be a good sign that he’s willing to lean on you. I’m glad he has you, Dean.”

“Not sure I’ve got him though,” Dean mutters under his breath, half to himself.

Sam’s always had annoyingly good hearing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean pauses for a moment, weighing the probability that he can get Sam to drop this without an explanation. “Cas and I, we’ve gotten real close. When we’re both home, when I know that I’ve got him somewhere safe and protected, there’s this sense of calm I’ve never known before. Everything just feels right, like it’s all exactly the way it’s supposed to be. He smells like home to me, and it’s the absolute best fucking thing in the world, man. But, he’s never...I just don’t think he feels the same way.”

“Well, did you ask him?”

“I’ve asked him if I smell different, but I don’t know that he really gets what I mean by that. I haven’t told him what he smells like to me. Don’t want to pressure him in case he doesn’t feel the same way. It’s just...there’s been so many alphas who’ve tried to manipulate him. I don’t want to be one more.”

Sam sighs heavily. “I get where you’re coming from, but it’s not the same thing at all. You might be his alpha, but you’re allowed to have feelings of your own, Dean. I don’t know that it does either of you any good to pretend that you’re not feeling something you clearly are.”

“Look, no chick-flick moments, alright? I’m not saying it’s gonna be like this forever. I’m just...giving him some time, that’s all.” Dean flops backwards onto the couch, 

“Fine, Dean. I know better by now than to try and talk you out of it when you’ve made up your mind about something. But you don’t have to carry this alone, y’know? You guys should come to dinner at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow. They’ve been bugging me non-stop about meeting him, and it’d do you both good to get out of the house. Spend some time around people.”

Dean hears the sounds of Castiel getting out of the bath, and knows if he tries to argue with Sam there’s no way he’ll be able to get off the phone before Castiel reappears. “No need to get your panties in a bunch. Could you let mom and dad know I’ll be bringing him by?” 

Sam grunts something affirmative in response, and Dean manages to hang up just before Castiel emerges from bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. He immediately curls himself into Dean’s side. Dean just holds him, running his fingers through messy brown hair, while Castiel silently stares into the distance.


End file.
